


Marry Me?

by baileyflailing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Aurors, Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, False Identity, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Romance, Slow Burn, Slurs, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, cannon who?, idiots to lovers, jkr who?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 40,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baileyflailing/pseuds/baileyflailing
Summary: When newly engaged magic couples start turning up dead in London the ministry fears there may be a serial killer. There are few connections between the couples other than all being in same sex relationships, having magic, and recently announcing their engagement. In order to get more information the Ministry wants to send 2 Aurors undercover, frequenting the wedding planners, shops and locations the couples all visited in their final days.When Draco's partner gets injured Harry is the only other auror not working an active case.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 222





	1. Chapter 1

If Robards had a sense of humor, Harry would have thought the assignment a joke. Not that a series of what seems to be homophobic murders of wizarding couples were anything to joke about - no Harry wanted to catch the bastard just as much as the rest of the office. It was who he was partnered with that was unbelievable.  
Draco Malfoy had been working as an Auror only a few months less than Harry; who had joined almost as soon as the war was over. Malfoy's joining was the bigger shock of the two. Harry had caught little more than a glimpse of him around the office over the past 4 years. Malfoy had managed to keep his head down at least. All Harry has heard about him was his desk was always overflowing with files and he never kept a partner for long - no one wanted to work with an acquitted death eater. Still, out of all the complaints about Malfoy he'd overheard none were about his success rate. Most were about his abrupt personality.  
Harry sighed, learning back in his chair and to rub his hands over his face. He needed a shave.  
All the missive said was, "New assignment: Active homicide investigation, transferring from Reele. Report to my office for further briefing."  
Reele was the oldest Auror working and Harry had heard she was retiring soon. He just didn't figure her the type to abandon a case before it was solved. But Head Auror Robards soon explained away that mystery; Reele was in coma. She'd been hit by an unknown curse the evening before while working the case. Malfoy had been the one to find her when she didn't report in that morning.  
Robards was firm in his decision that Harry take the case - the office was understaffed, the case was too big a priority for one agent to work alone, and most importantly: Harry was the only Auror not working an active case.  
Harry left Robbards office with an even bigger headache than before. He and Malfoy would just have to find a way to get along. How hard could it be? It had been 4 years afterall. And to go undercover immediately together?  
Harry sighed, unsure how he felt about the prospect of working with Malfoy. He only knew this was going to be awkward. 

Malfoy was fuming. He'd told Eldreda not to follow any lead without backup! Now the crazy old bat was comatose and inflected with an unknown curse. He pulled at his hair. He half wanted to rip it out in his frustration. They'd only been working this case for a month and while the motive seemed clear enough and they'd narrowed down an area they still had no idea who was committing the murders. What in Merlin's name did she find that led her to that alley and why hadn't she contacted him? He'd really thought they were starting to become a team, he- no. He didn't need a partner to find this sicko.  
Which is why the missive on his desk was almost the last straw. Harry. Fucking. Potter. Of course they would give the golden boy HIS case. Robards expected them to work together? What a joke. If anything he'd probably told Potter to find any evidence of him being a dark wizard or something. Just great. Draco's forehead hit his cluttered desk with a thunk. This case just got a lot more complicated.  
Robards informing him of the new parameters of the mission only added more complications but he was in no position to argue with a direct order. It would be the end of his career and he wasn't going to let anyone railroad him into being fired in disgrace. He wasn't going to let that happen. He'd solve this case no matter what. Even if it meant working with Potter. 

Lying to his friends and the Weasleys that he was going on an assignment out of the county went about as well as he expected. Molly cried and made him give her the exact date so she could send him food and Hermione didn't buy his story one bit. How could he tell? Well, her flooing back with him to Grimmauld Place was a hint. Her placing her hands on her hips and staring him down with her best disappointed McGonagall impression was another,  
"Harry James Potter-"  
"Its classified, 'Mione." He sighed, walking over to the kitchen counter to start them a pot of tea, "All I can say is I won't be here anywhere between a few weeks and months. If it makes you feel better Robards assigned me a partner so I won't be going undercover alone."  
He didn't mention who, because well he doubted that knowing Draco Malfoy was going to be the one watching his back would do anything to help with Hermione's nerves. Her narrowed glare eased into an analyzing stare and she raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wanting to know more. But his hands were tied. Undercover ops were kept confidential for a reason. Hermione knew that and he knew that. But it didn't make it any easier to keep information from the woman used to knowing anything and Harry had no doubt that if she decided to look into it she'd eventually uncover what case he was assigned to and who with. But she wouldn't. She respected the logic behind the secrecy rules too much and wouldn't do anything that would endanger him.  
It was going to be a tense afternoon tea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aliases!

Henry Varma. Apprentice wandmaker, most recently lived in Paris with boyfriend Damien Leclair an author/ghost writer. Moved to London for his new job. Or so the short cover story Harry was just handed says. The trunk full of collared shirts, vests and pressed pants all in tweed and check would indicate his usual go to wardrobe of old band shirts and jeans isn't going to be allowed on this mission. Just great. At least Malfoy looked just as displeased by the contents of his own trunk if the slight sneer on his face was any indication. Apparently the trunk wasn't filled with Malfoys usual tailored suits. Harry scanned his new partner's current attire wondering how expensive it was to get a suit that well fitting, because Malfoy for all his faults certainly didn't look bad.   
As if sensing Harry's eyes on him Malfoy looked up from the trunk he'd bend bent over and shifting through, turning slightly to raise a brow in question. Harry turned quickly back to his own trunk. Not that he was embarrassed to have been caught staring, only he really hadn't seen Malfoy up close in four years. Of course he'd changed. Grown into his sharp features and styled his pale blonde hair in a way that looked naturally tousled. Bastard. Harry'd given up taming his curls long ago, letting them grow out to where he could wrangle them out of his face and into a bun. It was just easier to manage and he envied Malfoy's ability to always look so put together is all.   
He pushed his glasses up his nose. It felt odd, having had his old circular wire frames transfigured into a broader squared wood frame.   
The Unspeakable trapped her foot in unsteady rhythm, strangely golden eyes scanning the otherwise empty warehouse they'd chosen to meet in. The petite woman never gave her name, but greeted them enthusiastically and showed them to their trunks and the dossier on the new parameters of their mission. Harry got the feeling she wasn't used to sitting still and quiet so long as he and malfoy finished up reading the papers and examining the trunks. She held out longer than Harry expected before breaking the somewhat tense silence,   
"So, are you guys ready to become someone else? Any questions about the glamour or secret keeping charm?"  
Harry shook his head but Malfoy looked her over with a critical eye before speaking,  
"You'll be our secret keeper?"

Then woman nodded, red curls bobbing around her cheeks, "Yes, for your safety I'll be the only one to know your true identities until the case is over. I can assure I rarely leave the ministry and since we have had no prior interactions it is unlikely anyone besides myself and Head Auror Robbards will ever know of this."

Malfoy nodded stiffly, but wasn't quite satisfied yet, "And this glamour? How experienced are you with it? Will the spell need to be refreshed?" 

The Unspeakable looked almost offended at the question but replied evenly,   
"I have a great deal of experience with this particular spell. It will last until I remove it." 

Unsurprisingly she didn't elaborate. Unspeakables rarely did. Her reply at least seemed to satisfy Malfoy who nodded once more but remained silent. Taking that as consent the woman cleared he throat and pulled out her wand before turning to Harry first and performing an unfamiliar spell. Though he felt a momentary warmth radiate about him he felt no other effect and when he looked down at his hands they seemed almost the same. Except the scars were gone. He looked up at her in surprise.  
The Unspeakable grinned at him before walking in a circle around him to check over his new appearance, speaking as she went,  
"Straighter hair, scars removed, eyes a deep brown, straight roman nose, light freckling, and a little false scar on your jaw for some realism. What do you think?"   
She gestured to the side to a simple full length mirror that hadn't been their moments before. Harry watched the man reflected there raise his brows in surprise as he did. He raised his hand and so did the reflex stranger. He moved closer to the mirror and squinted at his scarless forehead. It was certainly strange.   
"If you concentrate, really concentrate you should be able to see through your own glamour. Even see through eachother's glamours as the spell settles in since you were present for them. But to everyone else? You will be who is reflected now."   
Harry turned to see her moving about Malfoy as she had just done to him, weaving her wand in intricate patterns and muttering the carmz incantations. Malfoy shifted into a stranger before his eyes and the witch once again stepped back with a satisfied grin before circling him and listing his new qualities,   
"A lovely shade of blue on your eyes if I do say so myself, softened your features, a bit of a curl to to your new golden locks and added a little color to your complexion. Go see for yourself!"   
Malfoy, though it was hard to put his name to his new face, moved to stand next to him at the mirror, gingerly touching his new golden curls. Although the narrow glare he gave Harry when he caught him looking was 100% Malfoy.   
"When your ready we'll perform the Fidelius Charm and all that will be left is to portkey to your new apartment!"   
Harry stepped up to her first, offering his arm which she took with a surprisingly firm grasp and preformed the charm. Malfoy held her hand with a blank expression on his foreign face. The witch nodded at them before picking up a shard of old wood that had been laying amongst other debris in the warehouse,   
"This portkey will activate in exactly two minutes. I hope you find your new apartment suitable; I picked it out myself for obvious security reasons. Good luck, Aurors. I truly mean that. This cretin has taken enough lives and I have a lovely girlfriend I'd like to propose to someday soon."   
On that note she disapparited with a wink, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy. The warehouse suddenly felt a lot quieter and when he turned to look at Malfoy he found him already looking at him with a strange expression on his new face. Though some of his sharp features seemed to be returning and as Harry looked, dark blue eyes shifted to a lighter grey. He wondered if this would happen every time they looked at eachother. Malfoy was the one who broke the silence, taking one end of the portkey Harry still held, with a challenging look, "Scared, Potter?"  
Harry glared back gripping the portkey tighter, "You wish." 

The apartment was a one bedroom flat with a mix of white walls and exposed brickwork. The door opened into a small kitchen with a living area beyond it that consisted of a little round table with two chairs, a large dark wood cabinet in against one wall, a single antique looking loveseat next to it, on the opposite wall a chess set and chairs. The further wall held a tiny balcony beyond old glass doors and next to that a fireplace. Not one big enough to floo in but possibly to send messages and at the very least keep the place warm. The bedroom was similarly made up of dark wood furnishings but the bed, dresser and wardrobe were all clearly modern. Harry's chest floated to the end of the bed with a thunk, since that was as good a place as any. Malfoy let his drop in front of the cabinet and placed his hands on his hips. What complaint could he possibly have so soon? Malfoy scanned the room before turning back to Harry, "Well I'm not taking the sofa."   
He proceeded to sit primly on the edge of the bed and stare at Harry pointedly, who for his part was confused, "What?"   
Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Theres only one bed, Potter. And I am not sleeping on that loveseat."  
Harry just started at him for a moment before it click. This is where they would live, and as a soon to be engaged "couple" they of course were only given one bed. Oh. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course Malfoy had claimed the bed.   
"Whatever Malfoy, still sharing the wardrobe and everything else though. You're just going to have to learn to live with me."  
"You'll take the sofa then?"  
Harry shrugged, "I've had worse, and if it shuts you up I can live with it."   
Something flashed in Malfoy's eyes at that that Harry didn't catch before Malfoy let out a huff and said in the most sarcastically Malfoy way,   
"Well, darling fiancé we have a lot of catching up to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna try to re-upload this fic over the week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in for the long haul...

Afternoon light streamed through the tall french doors that doubled for windows, casting shadows about the small apartment. It hadn’t taken Harry long to unpack his trunk, quickly putting his new wardrobe in the shared closet before floating his trunk to the living room to unpack what few personal effects he had brought. Some books on cursework and a few novels Hermione insisted he bring, a quidditch paper from Ron, and a lovingly wrapped treacle tart Molly had surprised him with when he said his goodbyes. He could have cried at the gesture, innocuous as it was - they were only allowed things that couldn’t give away their identities afterall. He walked the few feet to the kitchen area and set it on the stark white counter for later. It really was a small apartment and he was glad the small solitary desk against the brickwall wasn’t actually where they were going to have to work. He couldn’t imagine how he and Malfoy would ever share the tiny desk already half taken up by a typewriter. For Malfoy’s cover job he supposed. It wasn’t so difficult to picture Malfoy scowling over the typewriter for hours. Hearing muttering from the open bedroom Harry sighed and decided to figure out what Malfoy could be complaining about now.   
The scene he entered was drastically different from the one he’d left just a few minutes before. Malfoy had seemingly upended his trunk of clothing and was floating soft looking sweater after sweater from the pile before him into the closet with muttered comments on the color or style as he arranged them neatly next to Harry’s pile of clothes. His back was to Harry, who leaned against the doorway half amused until Draco suddenly started muttering,   
“Can’t even properly sort his attire, those vests are going to get so wrinkled, ugh.”   
Harry raised a brow and retorted, “Excuse me if I don’t know proper clothes sorting etiquette. They’re put away at least.”  
Malfoy turned with a small start and glared at him, “Eavesdroping, Potter? You really have no manners.”  
“It’s not eavesdropping if it’s the door is wide open, Malfoy.” He shot back.  
Malfoy turned back from him with a disgusted noise and returned his focus to his new wardrobe, “As if it’s not bad enough to live with a mannerless slob they expect me to wear these things?”  
Harry didn’t understand what was wrong with the pair of brown corduroy pants Malfoy had floating in front of him but then Harry’s idea of an outfit consisted of Sirius’s old band shirts and Weasley sweaters and jeans that had a reasonable amount of wear and tear. He looked over at his pile of admittedly more haphazardly stacked clothes. The vests and suits were admittedly not his forte. He didn’t even know what he was meant to do with the pile of short vaguely tie shaped cloths. At least the short leather boots were oxfords were straightforward enough. He was going to look like some sort of professor. Well, wandmaker he reminded himself. Apprentice wandmaker, to Olivander no less. He wondered how the ministry had gotten him to go along with this, taking on an apprentice who would actually be spending his time canvassing the area. He let out an audible sigh, staring off into space. 

Potter was staring at his mess of clothing with a faraway look and Draco could only roll his eyes. Perhaps he was wondering how to put on a suit, Draco couldn’t recall the last time he saw Potter in anything other than auror robes with messy t-shirts and jeans that had tears in them. His carefree attire even at work irked Draco to no end. If anyone else dressed like that at work they’d be having words with Robbards. But what was a dress code to the golden boy?   
Done with sorting his own more relaxed attire but still full of pent up frustration Draco turned his wand to Potter’s mess, sorting the vests and suits onto hangers and neatly folding the shirts and sweaters.   
“What are you doing?” Potter grumbled, coming back from wherever he’d been lost in thought.  
Draco huffed, “Showing you the proper way to sort your attire obviously; since no one else is going to teach you how. You cannot just leave your suits in a pile or they’ll wrinkle and your shirts and ascots honestly it’s not difficult to sort them into a folded pile either.”  
Potter said nothing, just watched Draco sort his clothing for him like a pouting child. He even had his arms crossed over his chest and the scowl on his face was over exaggerated in Draco’s opinion. It was not charming. He didn’t understand how anyone put up with Potter’s childishness. And he was going to have to pretend to be madly in love with him? As if.   
Draco finished sorting Potter’s clothes and marched past him into the living room, pointing his wand at the wardrobe cabinet there, recalling the spell the unspeakable witch had taught them. The wood doors shuddered before creaking open and Draco stepped in. This was much better.   
The small room was the off white of every office ever and the worn wood floors hinted that the room had been well used before them. A wooden bookshelf with file cabinets spanned the right wall and a comfortable looking old brown leather sofa was directly adjacent to it against the back wall. Two long desks took up the left side of the room and a corner of the back wall. A chalkboard and corkboard hung over each respectively. Impersonal and efficient. He was grateful the unspeakable witch had thought to get them all the needed to work the case in peace and secrecy. Although, Draco supposed to an unspeakable the need for secrecy would be almost second nature. Potter trailed in behind him to look around with an unreadable expression, rubbing at the ring he now wore. Draco was suddenly very aware of the weight of his own. It came as more of a surprise than it should have then, when Potter asked, “What do you think we are like as a couple?”

Harry thought it only practical to go over the basics of how “Henry” and “Damien” worked as a couple; he and Malfoy would have to keep up the appearance of being engaged after all. Malfoy’s startled expression and the fact that his cheeks and ears turned red even under the glamour was unexpected. Was he embarrassed he hadn’t given their cover story much thought? Harry thought that was probably it as Malfoy cleared his throat and said, “Well we should figure out how long Henry and Damien have been together to determine their dynamic.”  
Harry scrunched his face in confusion. “What do you mean?”  
“Well, was it a whirlwind romance? Or did they meet years ago and fall slowly in love? How long have they known each other? How long did it take to get engaged?”   
Malfoy had taken a seat in one of the desk chairs and Harry followed suit, taking the other,   
“I think it’d be best to say we’ve known each other for a long time. You and I have after all and we’ll be less likely to slip up on that.”  
Malfoy nodded with a serious expression, “Yes, that’s probably best. Sticking as close as possible to the truth makes a lie more convincing. So, a sudden romance between old… friends?”  
Harry quirked an eyebrow at Malfoy’s hesitation, “What? I think we could manage to convince people we’re friends at least. Besides it’s Henry and Damien who met in Paris and became friends after all. We can’t act like us, the history is different. It’s not like anyone is asking you to actually be friends with me, Malfoy.”  
Malfoys expression for a moment was unreadable but a sneer quickly twisted his features, “No, they’re just asking us to pretend to be in love.”  
Harry sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “Look, I’m a smart dressing apprentice wandmaker and you are a french novelist. We moved here for my new job. We’re old friends that fell in love. And we only have to be in love when people are watching, no one is asking us to do anything but work together and share this apartment without killing each other. I’m willing to try if you are. So,” Harry held out his hand, “agree not to kill each other in our sleep and act like a couple when we need to?”  
Draco stared at Harry’s outstretched hand for a few moments before taking it in his to shake and looked up at him with a suddenly intense expression. Harry shouldn’t have been so surprised Malfoy’s otherwise soft hands had the same wand calluses he had from their work as Aurors. Malfoy’s grey eyes were full of determination and Harry felt for a moment his heart stop at this. He’d seen Malfoy’s sneer, his aloof superiority, and his viper quick anger but never had he seen Malfoy look this intense. Then just as quickly Malfoy’s expression changed again, shifting to confusion as Harry realised he still hadn’t let go of his hand. 

At some point they moved their conversation to the kitchen slash living room. Draco made the tea of course because Potter couldn’t be trusted to make it correctly. Draco took his with the smallest teaspoon of sugar and a dash of cream. Potter of course poured in a disgusting amount of cream and sugar. Draco shook his head at it as they sat across from each other at their little round dining table. Taking a sip of his properly made tea he began, “We should make a list. Set some ground rules.”  
Potter finally set down the creamer and quirked a brow in response, “A rule list? Really?”  
“Well excuse me potter if I have boundaries. We may have to convince people we’re dating but we should still have rules about how far we are each comfortable going to do so.”  
Draco was somewhat self satisfied with the way Potter’s face turned red and he sputtered into his tea. Draco elaborated, “Things like holding hands, Potter.”  
Harry cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, a list. That’s good.”  
Draco was not impressed when Potter wandlessly summoned a quill and sheet of paper, the show off. He saw Potter write “rules” in bold messy letters at the top of the sheet. Then “hand holding is okay” in smaller lettering under it before looking at Draco, “What else do you think? A set date night?”  
“A set date night?” Malfoy looked at him quizzically.  
“Yeah, I, uh, well Ginny was always going on about how we should have a set date night. So work and stuff couldn't get in the way.”   
It was probably one of the many reasons they didn’t work out as a couple. Harry was glad they stayed friends but he honestly hadn’t had any serious relationships since they broke up. Between people who were only interested in him being Harry Potter and his work he really hadn’t tried to seriously date. He wondered if Malfoy had more experience and scowled at the thought. Malfoy was good looking afterall. Not that Harry found him attractive, it was just that it’s obvious really how attractive Malfoy was with his sharp features and-  
“Well, if it’s Weasly approved of course we should. Friday’s then.” Malfoy sneered and that expression made him decidedly less attractive. To anyone. Harry rolled his eyes as he added “friday date nights” to the list. He leaned his chin on his other palm, ignoring Malfoys sneering.   
“So, hand holding and friday date nights. What else?”  
Malfoy was full of surprises today it seemed as he suggested with a sigh, “I don’t know, pet names?”  
“Pet names.” Harry wished he had something more intelligent to say but the idea of referring to Malfoy as anything but Malfoy was odd to say the least. They’d been Malfoy and Potter to each other for a decade.   
“Yes, and scarhead and potty won’t work I suppose. Ah, what was it you called me?”  
Harry scoffed and didn’t hesitate to return the insult, “Ferret face.”  
Malfoy sat back in his chair taking a long sip of his tea, somehow making the action look both arrogant and elegant, “Ah, yes. We were creative children. I don’t see why we’d have trouble finding something to call each other.”  
“There's a difference between insults and pet names, Malfoy. But,” And he was reluctant to admit it, “we probably should. Honey.”  
“Honey?” Malfoy set his teacup down with a scowl.   
Not honey then, “Sweetie? Hun? Babe? Darling?” Harry threw out as Malfoy wrinkled his nose.  
“Darling at least is dignified. But what should I call you?” Malfoy hummed, as if actually giving it some thought, “Something french perhaps as Damien is French. Branleur? Trou de cul?”  
Judging by Malfoys smirk, those were not in fact terms of endearment. Harry just scowled back until Malfoy threw up his hand dramatically, “Mon cheri!” At Harry’s continued look of suspicion Malfoy rolled his eyes and explained, “It means ‘my dear’. Good enough for you oh chosen one?”  
Harry glared at the other nickname but nodded his head in agreement all the same. Resisting the urge to jinx Malfoy for smirking at him like that.  
“Well, darling,” He huffed out, “let’s talk history then.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation begins!

The sofa wasn't as uncomfortable as it looked, and Harry had definitely slept in worse places. He only wished he'd gotten as lucky with his new attire; Draco had scoffed at Harry's first outfit attempt and refused to leave the building until Harry put on something that didn't look "as if it had been randomly selected by a blind house elf". While the slacks, collared shirt and vest were comfortable enough Harry really didn't understand the importance of an ascot and didn't really want to bother figuring it out just yet anyway. Looking over at Malfoy as he ordered for them both while Harry found a table in the cafe, he couldn't help but be envious. The sweater he wore while slightly oversized looked ridiculously soft. Cashmere probably. And he got to wear jeans! Really well-fitted jeans he noticed before turning away with a cough when the man in question glanced back at him. This cafe has really interesting tablecloths.   
"Voilà, ma chèrie," Malfoy set a steaming mug on the spiral Harry had been inspecting, "nos crêpes seront bientôt là."   
His french was flawless and his smug grin meant he probably didn't think Harry understood a word he said. Not, that he did really. But one doesn't live with Hermione and not pick up a few things. Luckily for Harry that meant her interest in French after Bill and Fleur’s wedding had rubbed off on him. Somewhat.  
"Darling, pas en français." Harry smiled right back and Malfoy huffed, not needing to fake his annoyance. Harry only smiled back in response, taking a sip of his latte. The cafe was quite busy but their table at least had the view they'd come for; the bakery across the street. It was the last place the latest victim had stopped and they wanted to get an idea of the business before they approached.   
When he turned from looking out the window Malfoy did not. Instead he had his chin propped up on one hand and though his eyes were scanning the bakery still Harry got the distinct impression Malfoy’s mind was elsewhere.   
It was the first time Harry had really looked at his old school nemesis in years. The years it seemed had been kind to Malfoy; his once pointy features now sharp and refined. His eyes though, Harry decided, were still the same. They still held the same sharp glint disclosing an even sharp mind. And as the glamour faded from Harry’s view of him he took in the other changes Malfoy had made; his white blonde hair tousled in a way that seemed natural, longer too than it had been when they were in school together. It suited him. He looked more relaxed, less like a stuck up pureblood and more approachable. Draco absentmindedly took a sip of his latte, a bit of foam sticking above his lip. Harry opened his mouth to mention it but before the words left his mouth Malfoy ran his tongue over it. He felt a strange tightness in his throat at the sight. Perhaps he was catching a cold? Harry almost didn’t notice their waiter until his breakfast was set in front of him.   
They observed the bakery during a relatively silent meal; it seemed rather popular and the portly man behind the counter rather enthusiastic. The bakery's owner it turned out was that same wizard. He introduced himself as Owen Surrey and he seemed genuinely delighted to hear of their upcoming nuptials. After twenty minutes of discussing possible flavors, color schemes, how many people they were thinking would attend, Harry made his escape under the guise of using the restroom. He hoped Draco would take the hint of distracting the man while he had a quick look around. After five minutes of discreet spellcasting Harry found nothing amiss and if he didn’t get back to them soon not only would he seem suspicious but Draco would probably chew him out for it.   
“Ah, Henry, I was just about to come check on you!” Malfoy- Damien laughed in a way that seemed almost genuine, turning back to take a card from Surrey, “We’ll have to come back after we’ve settled on a date! Monsieur Surrey here is telling me about this new trend, naked cake, that we have to consider.”   
Harry raised a brow but quickly schooled his expression into a smile, “If you say so darling, but we really should be going soon. You know how my cousin gets when kept waiting.”   
They said their goodbyes to the very friendly Mr.Surrey and once a safe distance from the bakery Malfoy asked him lowly, “So?”  
Harry shook his head, “Nothing. Not a trace of anything unusual.”  
Draco’s sigh came out like a cloud of smoke in the cold air as they kept walking down the street, “I figured as much. It’s a good thing he’s a baker rather than a butcher because I don’t think that man could hurt a fly. Unless you count talking it to death.”  
Harry almost laughed unsure if Malfoy, Malfoy of all people, had actually just made a joke. At his lack of reaction Draco just rolled his eyes, grabbing Harry’s hand in his to drag him into their next stop.  
Magical flower shops are much like muggle ones. Except it’s inadvisable to stop and smell the roses; something Harry had learned the hard way when Hermione and Ron had gotten married and Harry had tried to help. He’s still got the scar on his nose and so keeps a healthy distance between himself and the plants. In fact, Harry keeps his hand in Malfoys as they enter the warm building and catch the attention of the shopkeeper. The last thing he needed was for Malfoy to wander off and find trouble he’d likely blame on Harry. Malfoy gives him a little tug but Harry just repositions his hand to their fingers are intertwined and gives him a grin, knowing he’s definitely annoying the other man.   
They checked out two more florists, another bakery, an altier and three bridal shops before deciding the day was over. Not picking up much except a few rude or stiff shop attendants, that very well could have just been animosity for their job rather than their clientele and decided to call it a day after picking up some groceries. And aside from a petty argument over what type of breakfast foods were superior, they managed to keep things between them pretty civil.   
They had finally made it back to their place and put on the kettle when a knock sounded at their door. Malfoy stiffened immediately and Harry had his wand in hand ready to approach the door before he’d made a conscious decision to do so. Malfoy, however, stepped in his way and waved him aside pointing to the small kitchen. Harry took a defensive position just out of sight as Malfoy peeked through the keyhole. And snorted. 

Opening the door without further ado he put on his most charming smile, “Hello?”  
The woman could easily be his grandmother. Or his grandmother’s grandmother by how frail she seemed. She smiled up at him and raised a plain brown bag he hadn’t noticed before with deceptive strength, “Hullo, neighbor. I saw the pair of you leaving this morning and realized I must have missed the move last night - I do turn in rather early these days. I just wanted to welcome you and introduce myself, Melinda Hobkins. I’m next door.”   
“Damien Leclair,” Draco carefully took the offered bag from her, stepping aside, “Thank you, Ms.Hobkins would you like to come in? My fiance Henry has just put the tea on.”  
Potter stepped into view at this, wand thankfully tucked away once again and a smile that only grew into a genuine one as he saw who was at their door.   
“Oh no dear, I couldn’t impose! I just wanted to say hello and if I’m not back soon who knows what’ll become of my roast.” She gave a shaky laugh, “You two make a lovely pair. Feel free to come by if you ever need anything.”   
Draco was not blushing as he thanked her again and watched her and Potter exchange polite waves before she turned and began to hobble the short walk back to her own apartment. Closing the door softly he set the bag on the counter to finally get a look inside. Potter smiled at the contents, peering over Draco’s shoulder. He let out a warm laugh that tickled Draco’s neck in a way that definitely did not make him flush.   
A pie, apple from the smell with “Welcome!” written in crust. Potter turned back to the groceries he’d been unpacking, “We’ll have to get her something as thanks.”  
Draco hummed his agreement and carefully took the pie out, it was a lovely gesture. And one of the nicest things anyone had done for him in a long time. The last apartment he’d tried to rent did not welcome him so warmly. But then he is Damien Leclair right now not Draco Malfoy, the former Death Eater who’d only been acquitted because of the golden boy’s testimony. People probably still suspect he’d been blackmailing Potter at the time. He scowled over at the man in question, who had his back turned to sort things into the cabinets. His alias even got better clothing on this mission. The fitted pants and vest were well made and certainly weren’t hurting Potter’s looks. But then Potter looked good in anything these days and that only made Draco’s scowl deepen. He certainly wasn’t that skinny kid Draco had met in 1st year anymore. All lean muscle and-  
“Where do y’think this should-'' Potter turned, saw the scowl on Draco’s face and sighed. Setting the flour down on the counter Potter crossed his arms and gave Draco that same exaggerated scowl that he’d seen a hundred times when they were in school, “What?”  
“Nothing, Potter.” Draco picked up the flour and moved it into a cabinet, going to reach for another bag when he felt Potter grab his arm and he stiffened automatically, waiting for the insult or taunt.   
“I got the rest. Can you check the tea?”   
As if on que the kettle started screaming and Draco had no choice but to get it while Potter turned back and instead of putting away the few remaining groceries he surprised Draco again by proceeding to get out several pots.  
“What are you doing?”  
Potter didn’t even turn to look at him as he replied, “Making dinner, fettuccine alfredo alright?”  
Draco nodded dumbly before realizing Potter couldn’t see him and cursed himself internally over how uncertain his own reply sounded, “Sure?”  
Potter could cook? He was going to make them dinner?  
With nothing else to do and still slightly wary and confused by Potter’s non-reaction, he retreated into the cabinet office to start the short reports on each shop they’d investigated that day. Not that there was much to write, though he put the names of the two shops with rude employees up on the chalkboard. It was better than nothing. He looked over the area map they’d brought with them and marked tried to find connections between the places the three murders had taken place. And where the attempt on Reele had been made. But there were no connections he could see other than that it gave them the killer’s comfort zone. Draco didn’t have to look at the photos to recall the details anymore. He’d been at the last two scenes when the photos were taken. The blood on the walls reminiscent of what happened in his second year at Hogwarts, except instead of cryptic proclamations this psychos message was clear. The pureblood and homophobic messages written in the victims blood and the way he mangled the corpses made his skin crawl and his stomach roil even upon recollection. He never wanted to see that happen to another person again. He had to find out who was doing this.  
Yet he still had so little to go on and today hadn’t been the most encouraging start to their undercover operation. He put his head in his hands.  
And Potter. Was he setting him up for something? Or had he really meant it when he said they would work together? Or did he just expect to take over the case Malfoy had been working on for months, to his list of accomplishments? Or did he genuinely believe they could work together to solve this? Draco knew he wasn't the same person he'd been in school but would Potter understand that? Or was this case his way of watching and waiting for him to slip up as he had back then? Draco reached into his pocket to pull out the pocket watch his mother had given him years ago now, wishing for answers. The only answer it gave him was that it was time for dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in to a routine… is that a good thing?

If you had told him years ago that he would be living with and settling into a routine with Draco Malfoy, teenage Harry would have been equal parts suspicious and horrified. Now however twenty two year old Harry unsure what to feel about it being as easy as it was odd. They avoided each other as much as one could in a one bedroom apartment; meaning they really couldn’t. And so developed a routine of dancing around each other on their off time; sharing meals out of necessity and discussing the case. Draco had taken to carrying a journal and scoping the local cafes and business under the guise of writing. Harry had begun his cover work with ollivander the day before and it had been… interesting to say the least.   
He’d introduced himself as Henry Varma and ollivander had greeted him with a bemused look in his twinkling silver eyes. He looked good for a man of his age and Harry was glad to see he has recovered well from the war; Last Harry had seen him, ollivander had looked more skeletal than man. Harry got the feeling that despite the ministry having set up his cover in advance, contacting ollivander to get his agreement to place an undercover agent, that the man saw right through his glamour as Henry Varma to the man underneath. Yet Ollivander made no comment on it and greeted him as Mr.Varma. Harry had read the ministry dossier on wandmaking and his cover twice. It still hadn’t prepared him for working in the backroom of Ollivander’s shop; it was massive and the tools of wandmaking made him feel like he was in his first year at Hogwarts again. Ollivander was patient and the schedule he’d come up with was ideal for Harry’s cover: desk days and workshop days. On desk days he would work the front shop so that Ollivander would have some time to work on crafting wands. The two days he worked the desk he took inventory and showed people around the shop, introducing himself as Ollivander’s apprentice to anyone curious enough to inquire. The other three days he “worked” in the back room. And while Ollivander did show him the basics of the shop they both knew perfectly well that the three days he spent “in” the backroom would actually be spent investigating - something made much easier when one owns an invisibility cloak.   
Today had been a desk day meaning he spent his time engaging customers in small talk, being sure to announce his upcoming nuptials to another man to gauge their reactions, and reviewing cursework books to try and piece together how exactly the victims were killed. It turns out wand shops weren’t particularly busy this time of the year. Which left him loads of time to deliberate on the case. How had the killer gotten his victims alone? The imperious curse was obviously likely. But the unidentified spell that actually killed the victims? That was a question that only created more; why a new spell? Why not a standard curse? And whatever the spell was it didn't just kill - it did much worse to the victims in the process.   
Harry rubbed his eyes and replaced his glasses, checking the time on his watch, it was nearly time to close up shop. Mr.Ollivander's low voice suddenly came from behind, "Still here Mr.Varma?”  
Harry did not jump, he started a little maybe but totally knew the old man had walked up. Just how had he been so silent?   
“Er, yes. Of course sir.”  
Olivander didn’t laugh at him but his eyes twinkled with mirth all the same, “Something on your mind?”  
“Oh, it’s-” Harry was going to shake his head no but then a question did occur to him, “actually, yeah. Wandmaking is like spellwork right? How does one just create a new wand and make it work?”  
Olivander blinked at him in silent consideration before replying, “You don’t.”  
Harry’s brows knitted together, “Sir?”  
“The magic is already there in the wood and the other materials used in crafting. If you understand the basic principles behind each various wood type and magical core then you can make an educated guess as to which properties will be complimentary. Or too dissimilar to work well together. You look for the properties ingrained rather than just choosing at a whim because you say ‘like the look’ of rosewood. I suppose it is similar to spells in that way; contradicting spells cannot be combined and create anything of power. Vice versa, things that are evenly matched rarely produce great magic. A lot like relationships that way, eh?”  
Harry was more confused than ever, “I don’t follow, sir.”  
Ollivander let out a huff that might have been a laugh, “Ah, you young ones just charge in. That’s why relationships these days fall apart so quick; you choose based on what's similar rather than complementary. Your soulmate, just like your wand, will not be a reflection of who you are but rather someone who makes you stronger. Ah, but I've rambled long enough and you must have other work to attend to. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”  
Harry nodded and said his goodbyes a bit dazed, thinking on the older man’s words. That confirmed for him that there had to be some similarities in the cursework used on the victims. Pieces of spells. He’d known new spells could be made, of course; Harry recalled the “Half-Blood Prince’s” potions book, Snape had created new spells while a student even. Taking apart spells to rearrange them by pieces and create something altogether new.   
Harry had been so lost in thought that he hardly realized he’d walked the entire way back to the apartment until he was turning the key automatically. And there was Malfoy, standing back to him and all Harry could think of was sectumsempra. He’d disliked Malfoy then sure but didn’t know what the spell would do until he’d already used it. He could still see the scene. It was a part of his recurring nightmares. He’d been the cause of so much blood. So much harm. Even Malfoy, git that he was as a teenager, didn’t deserve getting hurt to such an extent.   
And he was looking at him now. Living with him. Working with him. 

Draco turned when he heard the door open. Potter looked like he’d seen a ghost and after just standing there for a solid minute Draco gave an irritated huff and went to close and lock the door that had been carelessly left open to the hall. Honestly, what was Potter thinking? Draco was going to ask as much when suddenly Potter turned, “Tea? I could use some. Long day.”  
Draco raised a brow, “Yes, well, something happened then?”  
Potter almost dropped the kettle at that but began making the tea and ignoring his own little mishap, “Er- no not really. Just busy. Talked to Olivander.”  
Draco hummed in response squinting at Potter’s still turned back. He looked fine. His attire at least was as pristine as potter ever got and there was no sign he’d gotten into any trouble. Except that look when he’d walked in. Draco bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he’d always done when stuck on a problem. Potter was keeping something from him. That much was obvious. But what? If it pertained to the case and the pig headed fool wasn’t sharing… Draco turned on his heel and paced back to the windows. Potter was definitely keeping something from him, but how could he get that stubborn Gryffindor talk? The only times they even remotely relaxed around one another was during meals and… well never. Draco looked around the room before walking over to the wizard chess set neither had touched, checking the compartments. All the pieces seemed there at least. Perhaps Potter’s tongue would loosen over a match? Gryphindoors didn’t back down once challenged after all - no matter how foolish. Draco smirked at the idea, because even if Potter didn’t talk Draco was confident he would win the game. He was confident of his skill in this. Decided, he waved Potter over when he left the little kitchen area with two steaming mugs, “Fancy a game? Bet I’ll wipe you off the board in fifteen minutes.”  
Potter scowled at that, an improvement to his ashen expression from earlier, and said, “Game on.”  
Two hour later they faced off on what had been declared the final deciding match of the evening. Potter, it turned out, was as infuriatingly capable at wizard chess as everything else. Draco only held the lead by one match. If potter won this they’d be even. Ridiculous, he’d asked every discreet inquiry he could to get the other man talking too and had little success information gathering. Honestly Draco didn’t even really care anymore if it wasn’t related to the case. Or winning this match. How did Potter get so good at chess!  
“‘Mione and Ron had matches and the other was always coming to me to practice when they lost. You?”  
Draco blinked, he hadn’t even realized he’d ask the question aloud, “I- Well my mother taught me and we used to play together often. As for Hogwarts I mostly played with Blaise since Pansy never cared for the game; just watched and gave bad advice.”  
Potter laughed at that, “I can see that.”  
Draco didn’t know how to respond to that. To Potter laughing and smiling and it being directed at him. Then Potter just had to go and say, “Checkmate.”  
He really was infuriating. They’d bet dinner on who would win but as time passed and they realized the possibility of a draw it was decided that in this case they’d just share takeout. Two discarded cartons of pad thai later Draco was lounging on the office sofa reading through the most recent case file while Potter had spread out several folders pertaining to the case on the floor where he lay propped on his elbows and occasionally muttering under his breath. Draco was more irritated that he wasn’t irritated with it. Only Potter could make such an annoying trait into something... well less annoying. And when had it stopped annoying Draco exactly? While Draco was staring at the case file and zoning out Potter had apparently gotten up. He flopped gracelessly onto the sofa and leaning over Draco’s shoulder to look at the paper he was stuck on, “Any miraculous connections?” Potter’s breath was warm and ghosted across Draco’s cheek from proximity. Draco shivered, blaming the office for being cold. That’s all. He turned his head slightly to look at Potter and reply, “No, nothing new.”   
And he didn’t know why he whispered it but well then there wasn’t really a need to raise his voice with Potter so close. The man in question met his gaze and raised his brows in a gesture of “oh well”, his long lashes fluttering shut as he failed to stifle a yawn. It must have gotten late and Potter would have to go to his cover job in the morning and a small part of Malfoy wondered why the stubborn man hadn’t gone to bed yet. Was it out of courtesy to him or stubbornness? Draco leaned forward, rubbing his hand over his own tired eyes. He was suddenly very aware of how warm Potter was next to him and that without noticing he’d leaned into it. Heat flooded his cheeks at the thought of it being a comfortable thing. This was just how Potter was. He got in everyone’s space or drew them toward him like the sun. Draco wasn’t going to be pulled in like some doomed comet. He’d made it clear from their first meeting that Draco would never be one of those people in his orbit. And really, hadn’t Draco learned his lesson yet?   
Letting out an audible sigh but without a word to Potter he deftly avoided the mess of files on the floor and left the cabinet office to stalk toward his room. He needed a shower to gather his thoughts. Perhaps Potter would just go to sleep already and he’d be refreshed enough to work a little longer afterward. Yet, fifteen minutes later as he left the bedroom there was Potter - awake, half heartedly flipping through what looked like a quidditch magazine., “Shower free then?”  
Draco nodded and had to remind himself he’d been heading to the kitchen instead of replying with something stupid. Like, “I thought you were a morning shower person?”. But really what kind of question was that? It’s not like he cared enough to notice. Maybe he needed to sleep worse than he thought? He put on a pot of Chamomile instead of his usual blend in the decision to just start up again bright and early. Scanned the books that had been on the shelf when they’d moved in and ended up settling down with his tea and the quidditch magazine Potter had been reading, because why not? It’s not like he was going back into the bedroom until Potter had finished his shower and changed after all.  
When Potter came out of the bedroom some time later, damp hair already curling back into it’s natural mess he found Malfoy immersed in the magazine. Half empty tea forgotten. And if Harry’s heart stuttered at the sight of his school nemesis with the blanket Molly had given him draped over his shoulders casually reading the magazine his best friend had given him with a completely unguarded expression well he didn’t need to acknowledge it. Nor did Draco need to acknowledge the somersault his stomach did when Potter was suddenly right in front of him, tousled hair dripping and old band shirt riding up ever so slightly as he moved to make up his bed on the sofa.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco makes a friend!

Budget, theme, destination or location? Expected amount of attendees? Harry never realized how much work went into planning a wedding - even one that would never happen. They had scheduled to meet with two wedding planners that day and at first Harry had thought they should have scheduled more. But no, two appointments in one day it turns out were more than enough. He knew the questions to ask, to provoke a reaction, to judge the person's reaction. He knew how to subtly manipulate a conversation all the while giving the impression he was thick. He learned how to pick up on people’s bodily clues early on. How to gauge people's moods, what to ask and when to back off; though it was something he’d ever thank them for.   
“Henry, here,” Malfoy, Damien, settled a hand on his arm, “has a large family so we were thinking portkeys of course if we ever do come to a decision on where in France we’ll be setting it. I’d prefer the beach, he wants a church, I'm sure you know how it goes.” Malfoy laughed. They’d been making a show of affection towards each other during the interviews. To gauge the planner's reaction, of course. Harry absentmindedly found himself reaching over to entwine their hands; the cool metal of the engagement ring Malfoy wore wasn’t unpleasant against his own skin. Their current interview was with an elderly witch, Mrs. Kinsington, who had met with two of the couples that later became victims. While Harry hardly believed in coincidence he was pretty sure this woman wasn’t the vicious murderer they were looking for. For one, she probably weighed eighty pounds soaking wet. Another clue being a framed and dated looking picture of a younger woman that was probably the witch’s daughter embracing another witch at what looked to be their wedding. No, Harry doubted the warmth in her eyes as she spoke about alternative venues to “fit both of them” was faked. Harry smiled at her and gave Malfoy’s hand a gentle squeeze. To get his attention.   
Malfoy looked over at him and he gave the slightest shake of his head. The look Malfoy sent him was as close to, “no shit” as he could get without saying the words aloud. Harry barely repressed a snort.   
“Well, it's almost time for my next meeting I’m afraid. It’s been wonderful meeting you both, I do hope to see you again soon. You make such a charming couple.”  
Malfoy smiled back and thanked her and Harry was briefly taken aback. It was the gentlest expression he’d ever seen on Malfoy, one he'd hardly known the other man was capable of. It was a genuine smile that lit up his eyes, and unlike his smirks and sneers it didn’t twist his sharp features further. Rather it softened them in a way that made a lump form in Harry’s throat as Malfoy’s thumb stroked his hand, still held, absentmindedly. Mrs. Kinsington had turned to say something to him but he’d missed it. She gave a chuckle and turned that warm smile at him, shaking her head, “You take care of him now.”  
Harry found his voice, though it came out fainter than he’d meant it to be, replying automatically, “I will.”  
They were partner’s afterall. At least until this case ended. Of course Harry would be feeling the need to protect his partner. Malfoy had turned out to be relatively easy to live in work with at least; they hadn’t given into childish arguments more than twice. And looking after each other well that’s what auror partner’s did. Watched each other's backs. That Malfoy had a rather nice backside was a bonus. Aesthetically of course. It wasn’t like he actually was attracted to Malfoy of all people! Harry let go of Malfoy’s hand once they were a safe distance from the business.   
“I’m going to do some recon. See you tonight, yeah?”   
Harry didn’t wait for Malfoys response before rushing off down the street. He didn’t see Malfoy’s quizzical expression as he watched him go.

Draco found himself once again in the little café not far from their apartment. It had a modern yet homey feel to it and Draco appreciated the anonymity of his glamour at times like this. He could order a latte and sit with his case notes, book on cursework, or suspect’s background file transfigured into a writer’s journal and work in peace. No one stared at Damien LeClair as they did Draco Malfoy. And the stares he did get were ones of curiosity rather than hate, suspicion or disgust as he’d grown accustomed to after the war. ‘Once a deatheater; always a deatheater’ people were fond of reminding him. As if he ever for a second forgot. With the glamour in place he could even roll up his sleeves without attracting stares; but it didn’t hide the mark to him. He saw it. He knew he’d never be rid of it.   
Draco was so lost in thought that he was startled by a woman’s voice suddenly at his side. He looked up into amused brown eyes ad recognized the young woman who usually worked the counter who spoke again,   
“You’re becoming a bit of a regular, aren’t you? Are you new to the area?”  
Draco nodded before clearing his throat, and the cobwebs from his mind, “Yes, I- we just move in a bit over a month ago now. My fiance Henry and I.”  
The woman's face lit up in a lopsided grin, “Congratulations! I’ve just asked my Anne to marry me as well! Last week! Have you two been planning long or?”  
Startled, Draco coughed, “Oh! Congratulations as well, and no not very long it was.. a sudden thing. Our engagement.”  
The young woman, ‘Beth’ her name tag read, was still smiling, “He proposed to you then?”  
Draco thought fast, keeping close to the truth as they’d agreed to do, “No, it was more a mutual decision.”  
“Oh? Sounds romantic.” She laughed good-naturedly, “tell you what; next time you come in I’ll give you both something on the house as an engagement gift.”  
“I couldn’t let you do that! Won’t your boss mind?”  
“I think she’ll be fine with it - considering I’m my own boss.”  
“You own this Café?”  
“Yes, opened two years ago. I’ve always been a baker and well this was the area closest to St.Mungos where I could set up shop, and we’ve a nice little apartment above it. My financee is a healer so we needed somewhere convenient for us both. Though I must admit I definitely got the easier commute to work.”   
They chatted awhile, the topic eventually turning to the elephant in the room; the recent murders. They’d been discussing wedding planners when it came up. Beth’s knuckles had gone white at her side.   
“Are you afraid?” Draco surprised himself by asking, but found he genuinely did care. She seemed a good person. She’d been friendly to him so far at least.   
The young woman let out an uncharacteristic sigh, “To be honest? Petrified.”  
Draco nodded and she seemed to take that as an agreement as his own feelings on the matter.  
“It’s just,” she shook her head, “I don’t want to have to live in fear anymore. I accepted who I am a long time ago; I just can’t understand how people can hate people like us so much. And over what? Love? So, yes I’m terrified. But it won’t stop me from loving her. From marrying her. She’d half of my heart and soul and no one can take that from us. It sucks how careful we have to be in our planning and in public about our relationship. I don’t want to hide this. To hide her, you know?”  
Draco nodded again, and found himself speaking, “I understand how you feel.”  
Because he did in more ways than she could ever know. He understood what it was like to be looked at with disgust. What it was like to have to hide his feelings from society and his family. A gay Malfoy. A gay deatheater. He wasn’t sure if the fallout would be worse from his family or the public. He could never have a normal life. A boyfriend or a husband. So he neve said a word. Hardly acted on his feelings unless he’d never see the other bloke again. He knew what it was like to have to hide everything he was. But the sympathetic smile Beth gave him didn’t bother him as sympathy from others did. Because it was a look of understanding too. And Drcao only felt guilty for that. If she knew who he really was she’d never have been so open with him. He didn’t deserve it. And she had far more to lose if he and Potter didn’t catch this guy than he did. A facsimile of a relationship. It had gotten comfortable; working and living with Potter. Things had even become easier in public. The hand holding and little gestures and reaching out that Potter did. But he knew it was for show. Knew better than to get comfortable in it. He knew he’d never have what Beth and Anne had. He knew that. And it shouldn’t hurt because he’d resigned to those facts long ago. Yet the look she gave him was so accepting as well and he’d never felt more seen.   
Draco didn’t realise how long he and Beth chatted until customer’s started trickling in and she said, “Final rush! I’ll see you around yeah?”  
Draco agreed and gathered his things up to leave, wondering if Potter would be back yet. He’d been odd after the appointment. Distracted. Draco just hoped it was something to do with the case and his gryffindor wasn’t off being too reckless.   
The apartment was empty when he got back though, so he ordered takeout for the both of them and went to work in their hidden office until the food arrived. Potter still hadn’t come back and Draco was annoyed. If that idiot had gotten hurt-  
The sound of the door opening caught his attention and he steadfastly ignored Potter’s unmistakable footfalls.   
“Decided to come back did you? Find anything during your ‘recon’?” Malfoy said sharply, annoyed at his own annoyance. But it was reasonable when one’s partner, auror partner, disappeared for hours! Without saying where. Idiot reckless gryffindor.   
“Had a few things to check up on but all dead ends.” He sounded defensive and Draco heard rustling. Potter was no doubt discovering his takeout; chicken marsala kept warm by the charm Draco had case over an hour ago.   
It was so quiet Draco almost missed it when Potter muttered, “Thank you.”  
Draco let out an irritated ‘hmph’ and went back to the photos he’d enlarged and arranged on his desk. The victims clothes. He’d found something odd, something similar but he couldn’t quite place it. It was annoying. He pulled out the body photos again, forcing himself to compare the bodies and clothes. Cross them with the others. The spell wounds were of course the glaring similarity. But something else was tugging at his mind. He leaned back in his chair, trying to take in the big picture. There was blood, torn clothing, and… and something else on victim 1’s wrist. And victim 3’s collar. He flipped through 1’s file. Quidditch minor leaguer. Victim 3’s; nurse. He checked their respective fiances files. 2 had it on their cheek, easily missed if not looking for it. Ink on 1’s wrist. Ink of 2’s swollen cheek, perhaps from a punch. Ink on 3’s collar, evidence of strangulation on her neck was noted in her file. How had they missed this? It was a little detail but glared at him,   
“Ink!” he muttered, puzzling it out. Victim 4 seemed to have never even gotten the chance to fight back as the first three had. No evidence of physical blows - only cursework. And victim 4 was the only one without ink smudged on their person. Sure, they were wizards and used ink but-  
“What’s that?” Potter had finished his dinner in silence and gone to work some time ago. Draco hadn’t noticed him come to stand behind him in his concentration. Potter leaned over Draco’s shoulder and was squinting at the photos, green eyes moving rapidly from photo to photo.   
“Ink?” He asked, turning his head toward Draco and he was far too close. His chest was warm and solid where he leaned over Draco’s shoulder. Draco could feel him breathing. He blinked away the sensation it caused before purposefully rolling his eyes, forcing his voice out, “Yes, ink, Potter. Surely you’re familiar with it.”   
Potter’s eyes looked unimpressed and vivid green behind those not so ridiculous transfigured glasses, saying drily, “Yes, Malfoy. What about it though?”  
Draco explained his findings and Potter listened and went over the photos again, still leaning too damn far into his personal space.   
“Well, it’s something.” Potter agreed, still looking down at the photos lost in thought, “Killer’s occupation, maybe? Writer, scholar-”  
“Journalist or secretary? Honestly, it hardly narrows it down does it?” Draco was exasperated and leaned his elbows forward on the desk to cradle his head in his hands. All this time and ink was all they could come up with as another clue? He was beyond frustrated with their lack of progress. He should be better at this! Quicker! He felt Potter shift, presumably to go back to his own desk, yet was startled by a hand resting on his shoulder. A reassuring squeeze, and a murmur that would irritate and not reassure him, “It’s something.”  
Draco looked at the hand on his shoulder and then up at his old school nemesis. His auror partner. Harry bloody potter. Who was looking at him in a way that made Draco feel for the second time that day, perhaps the second time ever, understood.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets an interesting invitation...

“How’s it?” Beth asked with a hint of nervousness from where she sat across the table. Draco might have made visiting her café into part of the weekly routine he’d settled into; but who could blame him really? Beth seemed to know a lot about what was going on around town from talking to customers and as an added bonus also happened to be an amazing baker who wanted opinions on her newest recipes before adding them to the menu. Draco had just enjoyed one of the best scones of his life and told her as much. Her relief was clear and her laugh loud and triumphant, “Honestly, that’s so good to hear. Scones have really never been my specialty.”   
Draco shook his head, smiling, “I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore if this was any indication of your skill.”  
Beth smiled and shrugged, opening her mouth to say something in reply when the bell over the door signaled a new arrival to the café. When she looked up to greet them her customer service smile quickly turned to real joy and she practically ran to the other woman who’d entered. Lifted up in her bear hug the other woman laughed happily, rewarding Beth with a peck on the lips when she finally set her back down. They exchanged happy greetings and before he knew it Beth was excitedly dragging the smaller woman over to his table, “Damien! This is my fiancee Anne! Anne, this is Damien our new regular!”   
The shorter woman’s warm brown gaze was twinkling with amusement when she smiled at him, offering a well manicured hand out to shake in greeting, “Hello Damien, it’s good to meet you. Beth mentioned your wonderful taste in cafes.”  
Beth gave her fiancee a playful smack and reprimand, “What are you doing here anyway, love?”  
“Changed over shifts today, so you’re going to be stuck with me for the evenings from now on. Also, I’ve been craving Fasolada and was thinking of making it tonight.”  
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Beth turned her attention back to Draco then, “Say, now you’ve met my Anne I’ve got to meet your henry sometime.”  
Anne raised a curious brow, “I could make dinner for four if you’re a fan of traditional greek?”  
Draco was in fact a fan of greek food, which is why it almost pained him to say, “I’m afraid we can’t tonight. We’ve other plans already.” Like patrolling the area and sweeping the stores and surrounding areas with discrete spells for anything that might relate to their case for hours in the dark and ever colder weather.   
Beth gave him a knowing look, “Ah, date night!”  
“Some other time then? We’ll have to have a double date.” Anne offered kindly and Draco nodded in agreement.  
“Well if you’ll pardon us I heard tell of new scones and I’m sure a little snack before dinner wouldn’t hurt.” Anne winked and began tugging her fiancee toward the counter with her, “It was nice meeting you!”   
Draco waved and returned the sentiment, watching the couple head into the back to “try scones”. Something in his chest twinged at their casual closeness as he left the café. At their offer for himself and Harry, not that it was their fault it was fake. A cover for the case and nothing more. Though Draco could at least admit to himself that after the case was solved he’d miss the little café and it’s friendly owners. He doubted they’d be as friendly with an ex-death eater. But if losing their budding friendship meant the case was solved he could at least take solace in that no harm would come to anyone else from this psycho.  
Potter arrived at their little apartment shortly after he did and they settled easily into their routine; call for take out, play chess till it arrived, argue over who had won more games over dinner (though neither had really kept count),when Draco irritably brought up that he should have been enjoying greek food with people who actually enjoyed his presence. At Potters confused expression Draco rolled his eyes and continued, “Beth’s fiancee Anne invited me to join them for dinner tonight.” Malfoy paused and looked at the suddenly interesting wood grain of the table, “Well invited us. And when I turned them down Anne insisted we have a double date sometime.”  
Potter seemed to process this, taking off his transfigured glasses and cleaning them, “A double date? You said they work at the café and hospital, right?”  
Draco nodded as Potter fixed his glasses back on his face and looked right at him,  
“Okay.”  
Draco was, admittedly, confused, “Okay?”  
Potter nodded, “Yeah, I mean it’s a good opportunity to ask them about the people they see and work with, see if they’ve noticed anything off.”  
Right, for the case, of course. Draco nodded and they finished dinner in an unusual silence before they set out for the areas they’d already selected to patrol. Draco made comments about the fairness of Potter’s invisibility cloak and Harry fought back till they left the building. Not that someone with Draco’s extensive potions skills needed an invisibility cloak to go unnoticed but still, the fighting was unavoidable. Almost comfortable at this point. Not that either man would ever admit to that. After a disappointingly fruitless night spent walking around cold despite the number of warming charms they’d each cast, Draco was in no mood for this frankly silly argument, “Really Potter, you're not the one who stepped into frankly I don’t want to consider what and got their shoes and a perfectly nice pair of trousers ruined. My toes will freeze off if I don’t shower first!”  
Harry glared from where he leaned against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed, “Well Malfoy, maybe be more careful next time because I’ve had a long day and I’m getting in the shower now.”  
Draco huffed, ready to continue their argument when Harry turned and began undressing, shucking off his shirt to reveal toned muscles and a few old scars lining his richly tanned skin. Draco’s mouth hung open in shock, obviously shock, shock at Potter’s rudeness and he did not run but turned and left at an appropriate pace when Potter began unbuttoning his trousers.   
How- What an absolute heathen. No manners. Really. Draco thought with a huff, sitting on the sofa with a huff. His face felt warm and he resolutely ignored his heart thumping in his side.

A long hot shower was exactly what Harry’s stiff and sore muscles needed. It had been a long day and a familiar twinge had built up in his scarred left leg, an old auror injury. The healers had done what they could; he had just been happy to wake up and still have his leg. He wasn’t vain and it wasn’t like he hadn’t his share of spell scars already. At least these days his most notable one was dormant and the only headaches he got were work related. Or Malfoy the stubborn git. Even when he wasn’t around Harry found his thoughts drifting back to him. To an argument they’d shared or the look of concentration he got during their chess matches. The way he frowned at Harry’s attempts to pair the collared shirts, vests and pressed trousers he wore for his cover and would float over a more suitable shirt or vest with a roll of his eyes and a flick of his wand. The way he looked so much softer than the Malfoy Harry had known, in his large sweaters and soft colors that complimented his complexion and so well.   
Even his sharp grey eyes seemed softer lately, though shadowed with dark lines indicating he probably slept just as well as Harry did even though he’d gotten the large comfortable bed. Malfoy was obviously committed to solving the case and had a work ethic Harry hadn’t expected from him but probably should have. Malfoy always had been extra in everything he did. Lost in thought he’d finished drying off and changing into a pair of joggers for bed. At least here he could dress as he normally would.   
When he opened the bedroom door Malfoy didn’t look up from where he sat at the little desk that was staged as his “writing desk”. He was absorbed in whatever it was and didn’t seem to hear Harry come out so he walked over to get his attention, tell him the shower was free, only to be brought to a stop with a soft, “Oh.”  
It looked as if Malfoy had filled the journal with sketches, if one could call such beautifully detailed drawings such, and the one he had been so intently focused on was a sketch of Harry. From the glance Harry got before Malfoy realized his presence and jumped up, snapping the journal shut.   
“You-” Harry started but Malfoy cut him off.  
Face flushed to the tips of his ears Malfoy sputtered, “Shower free then? Right. Good night.”  
He left the room and shut the bedroom door behind him before Harry could even fully process it. And what was he to make of this information? Of the fact that for one Draco Malfoy could draw and was very good at it. Or that he had been drawing him, a sketch of his face that didn’t look quite finished. The expression not quite clear yet. And what to make of his endearingly flushed face and speedy exit.  
Harry had taken a seat on the sofa and his eyes kept drifting between the bedroom door and the floor. Recalling the lines Draco had drawn of him he subconsciously reached up to touch his face, feeling the phantom trace of a certain other’s soft hand in place of his own.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are running high in this one

Malfoy had been avoiding him for days. Well, more than usual at least. He went out at odd hours. They only ever interacted for the briefest amounts of time and on Malfoy’s part with mostly one word answers. No longer did they share meals or engage in chess matches. Even when they did have to actually speak to each other to discuss the case Malfoy was tense and colder than ever. Harry was becoming beyond frustrated. He almost missed Malfoy’s snide comments on his wardrobe choices; Malfoy hadn’t even commented this morning when Harry’d come out wearing one polka dot snitch sock and another rainbow striped sock. This had gotten serious, then. Malfoy’s sudden reversal back into the days of ignoring him after they’d settled into a comfortable routine bugged him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. The old coldshoulder now felt somehow worse. More personal.   
Harry had only tried to bring up the sketch once; to complement Malfoy's skill and how it wasn’t that big a deal he’d drawn a sketch of him. Harry was positive Malfoy must have drawn loads of people. There was surely nothing to be embarrassed about, right? But no, Malfoy had continued to simply ignore him. And that is what made Harry so irritated. They were supposed to be a team. Partners. Yet Malfoy seemed quite content to keep ignoring him and after four days of this, quite frankly, Harry had had enough. Hence his current barring of the apartment door with his own body, standing in front of it with arms resolutely crossed and staring down Malfoy.  
“Move you oaf.”   
Malfoy once again tried to bypass him, reaching for the door handle. Harry just shifted to block him and grabbed the other man's reaching arm. Malfoy just glared at him.   
“No,” Harry ground out, staring deeply into Malfoys turbulent grey eyes, “not until you stop ignoring me. We can’t work together and solve this if you refuse to work together at all!”  
“I’ve not-” Malfoy began, but harry cut him off,  
“I swear to Merlin if you say you haven’t avoided me even during our briefings I’m going to jinx you.”  
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and he took a moment before replying cooly, “We don’t have to spend all our time together for this case to get solved, Potter. There are the two other florist’s I’m checking out today, I'm simply busy and really you are being so dramatic. Also, right now you’re the one affecting our progress since you won’t allow me to do my morning sweep of the area. Now move.”  
Harry did not in fact move, or rather he wouldn’t have but suddenly there was a tapping coming from the living room. A paper bird fluttered outside the french door style windows and Harry opened one to let it in. The only people who knew of their location were Robard’s and the unspeakable witch. He doubted anyone they’d met as Henry and Damien would have needed to contact them in such a discreet fashion either.   
The paper bird perched immediately on Malfoy's outstretched hand. The bird chirped out in an eerily human voice,   
“To whom it may concern, on behalf of the ministry of magic, we regret to inform you of the loss of one Eldreda Reele, who perished at St.Mungo’s from lingering spell injury at four thirty three this morning. Our deepest sympathies.”  
The little bird then proceeded to catch fire and fall away as ash. An untraceable message, the kind Harry had received before during his time with the Aurors; but this message had clearly been for Malfoy. Malfoy whose face had gone as ashen as the bird, jaw tight and expression unreadable as his hand and gaze still hovered where the bird had been.  
“Malfoy-” Harry began, unsure what he could say but wanting to do something for the other man, who promptly cut him off. His whole demeanor changed in a moment, expression going blank and standing straight backed, but all he said to Harry was, “No.”  
Harry went to speak again but Malfoy held up a hand,“No, Potter. I don’t want your sympathies. Or accusations. Whichever it may be.”  
“Accusations? Malfoy I know you’d never-”  
“It doesn’t bloody well matter!” Malfoy shouted, some emotion coming back into his expression and voice. Rage, “I told her not to follow up on any lead alone and she still went, it was not my fault and I’ll not have anyone blaming me for more deaths. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a patrol to get to.”  
Malfoy stomped toward the door and Harry followed, catching the other man’s hand, “Malfoy, look at me.” He tried to pull away but Harry held onto his hand tight, “No one is going to blame you for her actions. And you’re allowed to grieve her. I know you were partners for a long while.”  
Malfoy let out a sarcastic huff, because of course Malfoy could make a huff sound sarcastic, and turned his hand to grip Harry’s almost painfully. His eyes were empty but his voice thick with anger,   
“Only because she had no other choice in partners, kind of like how they assigned you so I couldn’t fuck up any more than I already have. I know very well what the people we work with think of me. No need to comfort the death eater with your lies, golden boy. Now,” He roughly tore his hand out of Harry’s, “I’ll be on my way because we actually do have work to do.”   
Harry didn’t know what he could say to that. Because he also knew what others in the Auror’s thought of Draco Malfoy. What he used to think of him.   
He watched Malfoy march out the door, flinching when it was closed with too much force. Hot shame and guilt washed over him. He really would have suspected Malfoy of foul play before. But now? Now that he’d seen how hard he worked, how dedicated he was to solving this case, seen him during the late nights and early mornings? Now that he’d lived with him and seen him sweet-talk shop keeps so Harry could slip away to discreetly scan the building, or the way he cherished the box of teas his mother had given him, or the way he called Harry out without fear or admiration of “the chosen one” to get in the way; only now did Harry realize how much his opinion on Malfoy had shifted. And he understood how even after they solved this case no one else at the ministry would see him differently. Would loathe to give him any credit. They still saw him as something he never really was even after all these years. And Harry was almost surprised to find how guilty he felt that he’d once seen him the same way.

“Okay, now that’s the third time your face has gone all sour at the mention of our partners. Spill, what’d you two get into a row?”  
Draco blinked, looking up from his latte and realizing that his face had in fact twisted into an ugly expression. He forced it to relax before he replied, “No, nothing like that really.”  
“Uh huh,” Beth gave him a highly skeptical look, one thick brow arching so high it nearly disappeared under her messy bangs.  
Draco let out a sigh that was all too real and full of stress once again deciding to stick as close to the truth as possible, “I’m just stressed over some work related things.”  
She scanned his face before a cheeky smile settled on her face, “So we’re still on for friday then? Anne and I are excited to finally meet your, Henry. Well that and try his cooking if it’s as good as you gushed about.”  
Draco could feel his face flush, “I do not gush!”  
Beth laughed, “Oh, about Henry you do. But so do I about Anne I’m sure so we’re even on that.” She winked and Draco shook his head. Some customers entered then and Beth left to see to them, Draco sipping the last of his latte. He did not gush about Potter. Clearly, he was just good at this whole pretending to be engaged thing. That was all. Besides he was still irritated with Potter. The man just didn’t know when to stop pushing people.   
Draco’s thoughts had wandered back to his previous partner as he’d made the trek back to the apartment. Eldreda hadn’t deserved to die like that. Why couldn’t she have just had him accompany her that night? Why had she not trusted him? And now she was dead. She was dead and he still hadn’t caught her killer. Draco let out another heavy sigh as he collapsed into his desk chair, hand wrapping around the comfortable weight of his pocket watch. Did he even want to know the answers anymore? He took out the old silver heirloom and stared down at its face, the only answer he got and it made no sense to him. The time is not yet right.   
At least for the moment he could still ignore the dampness gathering in his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double date time!!

Friday arrived and things were still tense between them. Harry felt like he was walking on glass around Malfoy, unsure if he even had the right to break the silence that had grown between them like a wall. Perhaps things were better this way. He and Malfoy didn’t need to be friends to work together. Even if the thought sent an unfamiliar twist to his heart. Friends; is that what they’d become during this investigation? He thought of how easy things had become between them, even their insults had felt like they were said less with animosity behind the words but more a feeling of… inevitability? No… more like, an almost comfortable familiarity. Their new normal. And now things had grown cold between them again Harry realized for the first time that perhaps, just perhaps, that he didn’t want things to go back to the way they were before. Whatever it was that had grown between them, Harry wasn’t ready to give up just yet. The stubbornness of a Gryffindor. He took off early from Ollivander’s but the old man did not protest. He just gave Harry a raised brow and knowing smile. What it was he thought he knew Harry didn’t but felt his face heat up all the same. Lingering even as he stepped out into the chill snow dusted streets.  
Once back at their apartment he got down to prepping for tonight's meal. He set the little table, pulling the other two chairs from their chess table and mentally going over the recipes he planned to use. Massor Dal to start, an easy enough lentil soup he often made for himself when the weather was gloomy. Tarte flambée, a sort of thin pizza he’d tried once with Hermione and then spent weeks attempting to recreate. And for desert of course his favorite food, one of the very first things he learned to make when he had a place of his own; treacle tart.  
Harry didn’t consider himself all that great a cook but if they were to have guests then he was going to put in the effort. After the war, ever since he’d officially moved into Grimmauld Place he’d had a few chances to entertain his friends. And it turned out, after throwing himself into renovations to make the place feel like a home, that he rather enjoyed cooking for people he cared about and who cared about him. It made it less of a chore. And this little apartment he shared with Draco had begun to feel similarly comfortable despite the impersonalness of the space. It still had touches of them here and there. Malfoy’s teas from his mother. Harry’s knitted blanket from Molly, thrown over the sofa. The few plants they’d actually bought from the florists they visited. And if that didn’t give Harry an idea. He checked the time and set the soup to simmer before shrugging on his coat.

When Draco arrived back he was met at the door with faint music playing from the Gramophone in the bedroom and something truly delicious smelling wafting through the air. He knew Harry had made some sort of pie the night before but he hadn’t bothered asking what he was going to make their guests for dinner. Potter must have heard him come in and yet he kept his back turned, humming along to the music and stirring a pot of something. His stance was relaxed, hips swaying ever so slightly to the tune and Draco may have pause a moment longer than necessary while taking off his coat. It wasn’t a bad sight. But after the tense atmosphere of the past few days it was certainly a sudden change. The tea pot whistled and Potter moved it from the burner without turning to look at him. Pouring it into already prepared mugs.   
Then he did turn to face him and Draco wished he hadn’t. Potter’s easy smile set things fluttering in his stomach and caused his heart and throat to clench. Draco was suddenly hit by just how much he missed this casual side of him.   
“Sit,” Potter gestured to the table he must have set. He’d set everything properly too; down to the placement of delicate dessert forks above the pates. Now where had Potter learned that? He almost asked, but the memory of the past few days kept him tense even as Potter set his tea before him. A peace offering? Or at least an attempt to bring them to a truce, Draco realized. Potter’s easy smile had been replaced with a tense set jaw and he was clearly thinking hard.  
“Look,” Potter cleared his throat and met Draco’s eyes with his own deep green, “I know you’re still mad. And believe me I’m still irritated with the way you’ve handled things-”  
Draco scoffed, cutting him off, “Did you really just start this conversation to insult me.”  
Harry huffed and ran a hand through his already messy hair (despite his hair tie’s valiant effort at maintaining it in a low bun), the other hand balled tightly at his side, “Would you just let me finish?”  
When all he got in reply was Draco’s raised brow, Potter continued, reestablishing eye contact, “What I’m trying to say is we’re both being unprofessional. Our opinions on each other shouldn’t affect our work; and before you object, yes they are. We hardly speak enough to discuss the changes in the case let alone plan our next move.”  
Draco stayed silent at that, because really he couldn’t object to that fact. They were being unprofessional, not that he was going to admit it. But he stayed quiet as Potter went on,  
“So, truce yeah? Let’s agree not to kill each other in our sleep and actually go back to the dedication to the case we had before. Renewed effort. And if one of us pisses the other off again then just fucking let it out and move on. We can’t afford to keep arguing can we?”   
And there was a hint of something in that dark gaze Draco didn’t quite understand, couldn’t yet comprehend, something that compelled him to nod and take Potter’s offered hand. The handshake was firm and he almost felt like it lingered just a bit too long, yet not long enough, as Potter’s calloused and scarred hand slipped from his own.  
Potter went back to the kitchen, once again stirring that large pot. Draco picked up his tea and gingerly raised it to his lips, and maybe half hopped it was poisoned and Potter had finally decided to off him, but as he took a sip and was hit with notes of bergamot, the smallest hint of sugar and cream instead. And looking up from his perfectly made tea to Potter’s turned figure. He was now humming again, dark strands of hair that escaped his bun when he ran his hand through it now framing his square jaw, and Draco thought to himself that this man may yet kill him after all.  
Mercifully, Beth and Anne were on time despite the snow that had started falling once again. They greeted him with a hug that after the initial surprise Draco was happy to return. He made introductions for “Henry” and he took their coats before he made to join them at the table.  
“Ah, just a moment!” Potter placed a hand to his shoulder before running back to the kitchen to retrieve something from a cabinet, leaving a very bewildered Draco just standing there. Before he could even ask what it was about Potter had come back into sight, carrying a bouquet of Narcissa and Green Daylily flowers in a simple vase. He gave Draco a lopsided grin, obviously pleased by his stunned reaction,   
“For you, darling. Could you place them on the table?” Potter was giving him a soft smile, eyes twinkling and for a moment Draco felt as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him.  
Draco flushed as two feminine voices cooed in unison , “Awww!”  
Damn Potter. Surprising him like that. Of course he’d blush from embarrassment! No one had ever- No, he was calm. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help admiring the arrangement as he placed it on the table. He could feel his blush deepening as he sat and was hit with Beth and Anne’s cheeky knowing looks. Potter, the git, acted like nothing was amiss as he served them. Draco finally found out what had smelled so delicious as he placed individual bowls of a soup he announced as “Massor Dal” and placed a long serving plate of Tarte flambée on the table. After assuring everyone had a drink Potter joined them and they sunk into conversation. Potter and Beth easily fell into a discussion of the ingredients he’d used and why he’d selected each dish. Draco felt his cheeks heating once again when Potter answered that he'd been attempting to find a complimentary blend of Indian and French dishes “to represent both Damien and my cultures” and placed a gentle hand atop his. Draco resolutely ignored the pounding of his heart. If this was what a dinner with him as a fiance was like, well- Draco cut off such unhelpful thoughts and went back to enjoying the meal. It was honestly well-prepared and the blend of flavors somehow worked. Clearly his cover story should have been a chef. Though, he wouldn’t be able to talk to people as much from a kitchen. Draco frowned as the image of Potter commanding a kitchen refused to leave his mind.   
A gentle chuckle snapped him from his thoughts and he saw Anne smiling next to him, a look of amusement in her deep brown eyes. She leaned over with a conspiratorial whisper, as Beth and Harry were still absorbed in their own conversation. Harry’s thumb stroked over his hand, as if absentmindedly.   
“Naughty thoughts?” Anne guessed with a smirk. Draco nearly choked on air but recovered by dabbing a napkin at his mouth. Anne still seemed thoroughly amused. Draco lowered his voice to match her previous tone,   
“If you count imagining him changing his career to Chef de cuisine as scandalous, then yes.”  
Anne let out another gentle chuckle and shook her head, gazing briefly at her own pastry chef before turning back to reply to him, “It’s long hours but their happiness is worth it, right? Whatever the career.”  
Draco found himself agreeing, the topic changing and everyone falling into the contented murmur before Harry announced desert. Treacle tart and Draco let out a snort before he could stop himself, coughing when he realized all eyes had turned to him, “Ah, it’s- well it’s always been his favorite so I should have predicted it.”   
Beth and Anne shared a laugh but Harry just looked at him, that strange expression once again on his handsome face. But he snapped out of it so quickly that Draco wondered if he’d imagined it, dealing out slices of the still warm desert. They enjoyed the sweet treat in comfortable silence broken by the occasional contented comment. It wasn’t they said their farewells and led their guests down to the apartment’s entry room that they realized there might be a problem. Nearly two feet of a problem blocked up against the apartment’s posh glass doors. Even past the gathered snow, London was nothing but a blur of white and Draco recalled with a start that their building was warded against apparitions in and out going until you’d left the door. The very much not opening tonight door. Beth and Anne looked almost stricken, but Harry seemed to have recovered quickly, “Well, a sleepover it is!”  
“We couldn’t impose-” Anne started, but Harry waved a hand and said,   
“Nope. We can’t let you out in those conditions. Apparating out there would be dangerous and that snow doesn't seem to be going anywhere.”  
“Really, we don’t want to impose. You’ve already given us such a lovely evening.”  
Draco had recovered by then and spoke up, “And as your hosts it wouldn’t be proper for us to throw you out into this storm. Please.”  
The two women exchanged a glance and Beth nodded both saying grateful words Harry shook his head at saying, “Not at all.” It wasn’t until they were once again inside the apartment that Draco realized a glaring problem. They only had one bed.

Harry moved to transfigure the loveseat into a double bed immediately as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Shrunk the soft leather backing into a headboard, the bottom half elongating, cushions fusing into a soft mattress, decorative pillows stretched into more suitable ones.  
“We should have more sheet’s somewhere,” and Harry moved to get the extra sheets he’d been using on the sofa, elongating them with a flick and making up the bed, “There we go.” And he placed the blanket Molly’d given him on top, turning back to the three of them with a warm smile, surprised to find them looking a bit stunned at such basic magic. The ladies tried to thank him again and he refused to hear it, it was partially his fault they had to stay over. He had wanted to ask about the area and unusual people, a feat he accomplished over dinner. The least they could offer was a place to stay until the storm calmed. Malfoy seemed to snap out of some trance then, disappearing into the bedroom and returning shortly with two bundles of clothes. The women took his spare pajamas gratefully and Malfoy offered them use of the shower and bathroom first.   
As they showered and changed, he and Malfoy cleaned up the dinner in silence. Harry was glad everyone had seemed to like it and eager to try the unique spice blend Beth suggested next time he made treacle tart. The women were quick and soon Harry found himself saying goodnight and shutting the bedroom door.   
The bedroom he and Malfoy had to share now.   
Instead of addressing the elephant in the room Malfoy had already gathered his pajamas and shut the bathroom door behind him. Harry sighed, gathering his own clothes and sitting on the bed to wait. When Malfoy finally exited the bathroom his hair was still wet but obviously brushed and his skin still a tinge pink from the hot shower, a soft contrast against the silvery grey button down pajamas he wore.   
“Your turn,” was all he said before tossing his day clothes in a hamper and picking up a book from the nightstand. Knowing it was worthless to talk before Malfoy was good and ready Harry headed to the bathroom with a sigh, quickly showering and changing into an old pair of joggers.  
When he’d tossed his clothes and come to stand by the bed Malfoy finally deigned to acknowledge his presence, face somehow still pink. From the shower. Dryly intoning, “What?”  
Harry raised a brow, “Scoot over.”  
Malfoy actually turned to face him now, jaw clenched, stating, “You really mean to share the bed.”  
“Yup,” Harry answered without hesitation. After all he’d shared the bed with Ron before when there wasn’t room. It wasn’t that different. Or so he told himself. For some reason it was suddenly hard to look Malfoy in the eyes. “So, scoot over.”  
Malfoy did not.  
“Scoot. Unless you want me to crawl over you?”  
At that Malfoy let out what could only be an offended stutter and finally moved over to the other side of the bed. Practically squished himself against the wall. It would be adorable but this was Malfoy, of course Harry didn’t find it cute. Not at all. When Malfoy finally shut his book Harry set aside the quidditch magazine he’d mercifully thought to bring and held out a hand. Malfoy looked at it in confusion.  
“Want me to set that on the table?”  
Malfoy huffed and wandlessly sent the book flying to land atop his magazine on the table. Mature. Harry raised a brow at this and Malfoy just sent him a look he’d learned in school meant, “Something to say, Potter?” Harry did not dignify it with a response, instead flicking the light off in the room. Malfoy shifted. He shifted again. They both shifted until Malfoy let out a frustrated groan and Harry couldn’t take it anymore, “For fuck sake, just spread out. You won’t die if you accidentally touch me.”  
“Maybe I will. How do I know you haven’t hexed the middle of the bed?”  
Harry snorted at the absurdity of that accusation, “I didn’t hex anything and I’m not going to hex you. Just relax.”  
“Easy for you to say when you casually hog up so much space.”  
Harry clenched his jaw at that, “Shut up.”  
It was Malfoy’s turn to snort at the mature reply and despite his anger at Malfoy’s comment he was strangely happy to hear such an undignified sound coming from the man next to him. Impulsively, as gryffindors are known to be (and perhaps taking a bit of courage he wouldn’t admit to needing), Harry reached over and pulled Malfoy into the middle of the bed, oddly happy at the affronted squeak the leaner man let out. Something inside him wanted to linger there but Harry withdrew his arm all the same.   
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Malfoy whispered angrily. Harry just tired to bite back a laugh as he whispered back,   
“Just showing you there's no hexes. Now relax already.”  
Malfoy huffed but turned on his side facing Harry, seemingly finally finding a comfortable position. In the low light his grey eyes were darker and the lines of his sharp face even softer. Harry realized he was staring. He didn’t look away,   
“Truce, remember? Just trust me. For tonight.”   
Malfoy’s unreadable eyes searched him in the dark and slowly, ever so slowly he relaxed and gave a nod. And if they fell asleep facing one another well, that was clearly because they couldn’t trust each other. Not because of anything else.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/comfort and some holiday fluff

He couldn’t move. His limbs were bound. No! He fought against the spell’s grip, tensing from the pain he knew was coming. Hands clutched at him. Let go! Let go! Not now! Not yet! Someone was calling his name. He had to get to them. Had to help them, he couldn’t let it end like this!  
“Harry!” His eyes sprung open and for a moment he mindlessly fought against the hands on his shoulders before his brain caught up to his blurry vision. Worried grey eyes scanned his face, strands of blonde hair messily framing Malfoy’s face as gentle but firm hands gripped Harry’s arms. Malfoy leaned half over him. For some reason this was soothing instead of panic inducing. Malfoy was frowning, now rubbing circles on his arms, “It’s okay. It was just a dream. I’ve got you; you’re okay.”  
Harry just lay there trying to steady his ragged breaths. It had just been a dream. No one was in danger. They were safe. He clutched a shaking hand over one of Malfoy’s, needing to feel something solid. Something grounding and real. Malfoy went still for a moment, expression unreadable, before properly entwining their hands, his other hand still a comforting weight on Harry’s shoulder as he eased into laying on his side, leaned toward Harry. He stroked a gentle slightly calloused thumb over Harry’s hand where he held it.  
“I’ve got you.” Draco whispered in a voice heavy from sleep and perhaps something else, expression gentler than any Harry had ever seen on him before. Safe and warm. Comforted by the contact Harry drifted back to sleep. 

There were worse ways to wake than curled up against the wizarding world’s savior. That didn’t stop Draco’s eternal stream of curses as he disentangled himself from the other man though. When Harry woke he at least had the decency not to mention anything as they readied themselves for the day and checked both the weather and on their guests. It had stopped snowing at some point in the night, thank Merlin. The view outside their apartment window was of a little slice of wizarding london dusted in sparkling white. Yet already he could see witches and wizards working to clear the snow with charms. He even spotted a few of the neighborhood children casting snowballs at each other or building snowmen.   
Breakfast was a friendly affair, almost festive as Beth talked about how they needed to finish decorating the café for the season. It was closed today luckily, so the four of them enjoyed a breakfast prepared in the little kitchen with minimal squabbling by the two cooks amongst them; a menagerie of pancakes and eggs and bacon and toast and jams. Draco made his coffee french pressed and Harry made a pot of strong tea for himself and their guests.   
After everyone was full and dressed for the day they waved goodbye to their guests and walked back up to their apartment, where they cleaned up in companionable silence. Neither man yet knowing how or if they should address what happened the night before. Draco had had his fair share of nightmares since the war. He wouldn’t push the topic unless Potter brought it up. But he didn’t. And things went about almost as normal; each returning to their usual routines. Potter left for a patrol around noon and Draco found himself staring out the apartment window long after Potter’s form had disappeared.   
Thinking about what Beth had said about decorating for the holiday’s Draco turned toward their rather bland apartment with a frown. It may be an assignment but they should at least put up the pretense of a couple living here, right? What if Beth and Anne wanted to come by again and saw they’d done nothing for the holidays? It would make something seem off about them. They couldn’t have that.   
Draco spelled on the gramophone to christmas music and spent the next hour digging up old spells from his memories of childhood holidays, spinning braided silver and gold tinsel along the walls and ceiling. Adding pops of green in the form of lush garlands over the doors and windows.. He may have added an extra sparkle to them but then it was the holidays. Spun a wreath of holly on the outside of their apartment door. Added a few bells and stars. Was just finishing a bloom of holly over the window and humming along to a Weird Sisters cover of Jingle Bell Rock when he heard the door open and turned to greet Potter.  
Who was holding what was either a shrunken christmas tree or a tree for mice. Draco raised a brown in surprise, holding the tree as the other man shrugged off his cloak and scarf. Potter’s hair was pulled back as per usual while damp curls stuck to his face from snow and he gave Draco the biggest smile as he took in the room. Draco clutched the shrunken tree, wondering vaguely if he should schedule an appointment with a healer. He kept having trouble regaining his breath lately.  
“Kept busy while I patrolled, did you?” He’d turned that thousand watt smile on Draco and took back the shrunken tree, floating it around the room in different places to figure out where it’d fit.  
“Yes, well,” Draco began, watching Potter’s progress around the room, “seems we had similar ideas if your patrol ended with bringing that home.”  
He could practically hear the eye roll in Potters voice despite his back being turned, “Oh don’t sound so pleased you might strain something.”  
Draco was straining to keep from smiling but Potter didn’t need to know that as he went on, “It’ll look better after we place and decorate it.”  
And a few minutes, and only one further argument later they’d moved the chess set and placed the tree. Potter was right, though Draco would never admit it, the tree did look much better once returned to its normal size; The scent of evergreen washing over them as the tree magically became lush and tall. Potter immediately started spinning red and gold garlands over it and Draco scoffed, immediately transfiguring the other man’s work to a more fitting green and gold. Potter mouth fell open and he sputtered, “Merlin, the tree is already green! Those colors make no sense.”  
Draco arched a brow smugly, “Well neither does decorating the tree in gryffindor colors. Or did you think I wouldn't notice?”  
“Not what I intended.” Potter muttered looking back at the tree, scratching his stubbly chin in thought.   
“Sure,” Draco’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he drew out the word, smile breaking through at last despite his best attempts to remain stoic. Harry didn’t even acknowledge he’d spoken, raising his wand to the tree once again transfiguring the garlands. Well, Draco could live with red and silver. He just set about adding green and silver baubles in response, ignoring Potter’s long suffering sigh. Though he didn’t complain when Potter added his own red and gold ones. Sometime later when they stepped back to get a proper look at their tree, Draco came to a realization; they probably could have planned this out better. The branches were almost groaning under the weight of their hodgepodge decorations in places. Other places were almost bare save the haphazardly wrapped tinsel. Well. Perhaps they could fix it?  
Then Potter burst out in laughter and Draco, looking between the laughing man and the tree decided that perhaps it was just fine the way it was.

By the time night falls and they’ve finished their evening patrols Malfoy has ordered them takeout from what had quickly become their regular indian restaurant. And opening the container Malfoy handed him to his favorite order of red chicken curry, well Harry blamed the warmth he felt in his chest on the still warm container. He glanced over at the other man, watching as Malfoy tried to balance a rava-dosas in one hand and his quill in the other as they were eating at their desks. Harry has the strange urge to wipe away the little bit of sauce Malfoy had smudged on the corner of his mouth. Before he can do something stupid like reach out and act on that feeling though, Malfoy licks his lips and Harry feels his face heat up, shoving a forkful of curry in his mouth so he could blame the spices for the heat. Really. He didn’t know if he should thank Malfoy for comforting him last night or if that would be overstepping some line. This was unfamiliar territory between them. This- friendliness or whatever. He looked at Malfoy again, saw how pinched his face had become as he stared at the writing on the paper pinned to the board in front of him. His writing had stilled and he’d abandoned what little was left of his dinner. Something in his chest clenched as he read the paper Malfoy was lost staring at. 

Incident Report: 31665   
Auror Reele, Eldreda on the 15th of-

Harry stopped reading, turning his gaze back to Malfoy who looked ready to snap the quill he held so tightly.   
“Malfoy,” Harry began, but was cut off.  
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your thoughts on it, Potter.”  
“I was just going to ask if you’re doing okay.”  
Malfoy stood suddenly from his desk and glared at him, face still twisted in emotion but voice cold and sharp, “Okay? What does it matter, Potter? She’s dead. I haven’t found the bastard yet. How would you be?”  
Harry opened his mouth to answer but didn’t really know what to say, yet malfoy cut him off again anyway,   
“Just mind your own business and sod off.”  
Malfoy stomped out of their hidden office at that, cabinet door slamming behind him. Harry stood then too, having the presence of mind to vanish what was left of their meals before following after him. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to confront Malfoy right now but when had that ever stopped them before? Harry found him in the bedroom, angrilly gathering together his pajamas, stopping to glare when Harry entered the room,  
“I said, ‘Sod off.’ Or are you deaf as well as dumb, Potter?”  
Harry walked over and stood, arms crossed less than a foot from Malfoy, “That all you’ve got?”  
Malfoy huffed, stepping closer to hiss, “Really? Can’t you take a fucking hint? I want to be alone! So get out!”  
Harry didn’t move a muscle, staring Malfoy down, “Anything else?”  
Malfoy let out an incredulous noise, “Go. Away. Potter!” Malfoy closed the distance and ground out the words, punctuating each with a shove at Harry’s chest. Harry’s hands quickly snapped up to grab Malfoys wrists, which only enraged him further as Harry leveled at him, “No.”  
“Salazar but you are thick! What do you want from me? Do you want me to hex you? Do you want me to cry? To complain to you? To curse the world and everyone in it? What do you want from me?”   
Even as he fought to pull away his hands shook in Harry’s firm grip and the crack in Malfoy’s voice didn’t go unnoticed either. Harry just looked at him, expression free from judgement but frowning,   
“What I want is for you to trust me. What I want is for you to let go of whatever childish animosity you’re clinging to between us and just trust me.”  
Malfoy looked at him incredulously, “Potter-”  
“Harry,” He said firmly, “You know my name so bloody use it. Stop treating me like an enemy, when you know I’m not.”  
Malfoy shook his head and looked away from Harry’s piercing gaze, finally wrenching his arms free from Harry’s grip and turning to half sit half collapsed onto the bed. He balled his hands into the soft grey comforter and shook his head, refusing to acknowledge how damp his eyes had gotten. Harry dropped down onto the bed nest to him. Sitting with one leg crossed on the bed so he could face him, lowering his voice,   
“Tell me about her.”  
It was all Harry said. It was enough. Suddenly Malfoy collapsed forward, face in his hands and elbows braced on his shaking thighs. Voice catching on her name,   
“Eldreda, was an idiot.”  
Harry hummed in encouragement, placing a hand on Malfoy's shoulder and rubbing in circles as he’d done the night before for him. Malfoy shuddered but didn’t pull away, rambling on,   
“She shouldn’t have gone alone. She knew the risks. She knew what this wizard is capable of but she went without me anyway. What was so important? Why couldn’t she just come get me? Foolish old woman! Why couldn’t she just trust me? I would have helped her; I trusted her!”  
Something in Harry’s chest broke at that and before he knew it he’d pulled Malfoy into his arms, just holding him. After the initial shock Malfoy relaxed into his embrace, shuddering and Harry ignored the dampness soaking through his shirt where Malfoy burrowed his face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He held him in silence for a moment, just rubbing circles on his back with one hand and holding him tight against him with the other. When he did speak his own voice felt hoarse,   
“I don’t know. I can’t speak for her. But I do know this. I know you, Draco Malfoy, and I trust you.”  
Malfoy didn’t reply but his grip on Harry's shirt tightened and his shaking continued. So Harry held him. And eventually Malfoy’s shaking stopped. But they didn’t move. And eventually, they fell asleep still entangled in the warm embrace.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, fluff, and the plot thickens

Draco Malfoy would be lying if he said he’d never considered what it would be like to wake up to Harry Potter. Not that he would ever admit it either. And the situation he found himself in was not any of the scenarios he pictured; for one they were both clothed and neither had woken while stealing away in the middle of the night. No, this was a much different picture. One he liked much better but one that hurt no less; walking up with the other man’s strong arms still wrapped protectively around him even in sleep. The little frown he made while dreaming. Faces so close Draco could make out a faint scar traveling from his lip to chin. He wondered how it had happened. He wondered a great many things that morning he’d never let himself wonder before. He’d always cut off such thoughts before they could properly form, but here? In Harry’s arms, whose face was in the gentle morning light as if even the sun wished to tenderly cup those cheeks, to trace the lines of his nose and jaw. He found it difficult to push such tender albeit unrealistic thoughts away. Yesterday it had been so awkward but this… no one had made Potter stay with him last night. There was no reason to share the bed. To comfort and embrace him when he’d felt so terribly alone.   
Potter was kind. He’d always known this; never doubted it even when the other man had left him with scars. Back then he was a lost teenager in the midst of a war and he had desperately wanted a way to end the horror. To stop before he did something he couldn’t come back from. He’d debated ending it himself. Then there was Potter and like everything else Potter beat him to that as well. Had Snape not interfered he’d have bleed out there. In Hogwarts, which had felt more like a home than the Manor had in recent years, staring up at the face of the one person he’d never been able to get off his mind. Back then, Draco wouldn’t have minded such a death. Now, he wasn’t so sure.  
He didn't much believe in divination or psychics who claimed to see the future. But he had come to believe that the future could be made better than the past. All he had to do was keep living. Keep taking steps forward. And inch by inch he’d carved himself a new life; one he was proud of even if it wasn’t glamorous or what people expected of him. He could handle the way people still looked at him with distrust because he knew his own intentions. He knew what he wanted. He had his own place now, still had his mother and his few but true friends. So he could appreciate that this was perhaps just how Potter comforted his own friends. He did seem to want friendship at least. Even if it ended with this case Draco decided that it would be enough for him. He would take what happiness he could get - even if his heart would always twinge with regret. And now he just wondered how to disentangle himself without waking the other man. Potter so rarely slept enough these days (a fault of his own as well) and Draco didn’t want to wake him when he was finally getting some rest. Though he did immediately miss the warmth, just the warmth he told himself, when he got up to see what he could do about breakfast.

Harry awoke to near burnt bacon and runny eggs. Though he ate it gladly with his, thankfully alright, toast and a smile on his face. Malfoy had made them breakfast. Now that was a first. But when he asked all Malfoy had said was that it was a, “thank you” and to shut up before he changed his mind. Harry did not complain. Though watching Malfoy’s face twist into a frown at his own cooking was a sight. Harry did not laugh, though they both finished with their breakfast rather quick. It was the thought that Harry appreciated. After all, as evidenced by this breakfast, how often did Malfoy cook for someone else? It was...sweet. A word he would never have associated with Malfoy before.  
Things fell back into their normal routine almost too easily. Harry didn’t know how to bring up their falling asleep together, twice now, and for some reason when he tried his words caught in his throat. His words had started to do that a lot around Malfoy. He was a stranger to this version of Malfoy; they were no longer two teens on opposite sides of a war. They were on even ground for the first time. The way this Malfoy was stirred up something in his chest - something he ignored, buried deep like when they were still in school. Harry knew he should keep it that way. He wanted to ignore it. And he didn’t. And that just caused him to wonder ridiculous things like what Malfoy thought of him. Did he still hate him on principal or was he over him by now? Did he see the same kid who’d followed him around Hogwarts accusing him of being up to no good? Or did he see the chosen one the papers so loved to gossip about? What did Draco Malfoy see when he looked at him? Why did that question suddenly seem to matter so much to him?  
They had appointments scheduled today with a few of the more suspicious shop owners. All of them were none too pleased with their presence but willing enough to work with them at the thought of all the galleons a wedding would bring them. It was a shame really such a sour faced old woman ran such a lovely little flower shop, Harry thought after one said meeting when he noticed the basket of pale coral roses as he “browsed”. It would make sense to buy something he reasoned as he found himself picking one out. A single rose was well within their expenses as well so Malfoy could hardly argue he wasted his money. The smiling attendant who didn’t seem to share her employer’s phobia even gave him a discount with a conspiratorial finger to her lips and a congratulations on his engagement.   
His engagement. He felt bad for the deception for some reason and that unsettled him. They were just doing their job. Yet the feeling lingered until he met Malfoy outside, presenting him with the rose. Malfoys blush and awed, “Thanks.” may have been for show but Harry found he was pleased nonetheless. Perhaps he should buy him flowers more often. For their cover of course. The fact Malfoy was smiling so gently at him, flecks of snow falling like a crown of stars onto his pale blonde hair, or that his gloved hand was still somehow warm in Harry’s had nothing to do with it at all. 

Across town, as the sun made its descent in the grey winter sky a certain healer made her way home after her shift at St.Mungo's, mind on the idea of a nice fire and dinner with her fiancee to keep her warm. It had been a draining shift, magically, and she wanted nothing more than to reach a familiar bakery already and rest up. So preoccupied in her thoughts was she that she didn’t notice the shadow of a man creeping ever closer. She didn’t notice she was being followed until rough hands wrenched her off the street and into a shadowed alley with impossible speed.   
There was a struggle.   
Spell fire exchanged.   
Silence.  
Then just as suddenly the woman half-ran half-stumbled into the street, melting white snow where a trail of crimson ran from her wounds. Silent words formed on lips painted an eerie red as she fell to her knees at the feet of the first stranger she saw. People gathered, apparated, patronuses sent, emergency medi witches and wizards arrived just before the Aurors and yet all they found was an empty alleyway and two words written hastily on the wall in blood,  
NOT DONE.

Furious knocking set both undercover Auror’s on edge and Harry was the first to the door; not at all relieved at who he saw through the peephole. The unspeakable witch wore some her cloak pulled tight over her head but enough of her face showed that Harry hastily opened the door and let her in. Before he could speak, before he could even really form a question in his mind, she announced, “There’s been another attack. Victim ran out on the corner of 15th and Crescent street, aurors have located and are processing the crime scene as we speak. I’m to de-glamour you and bring you into St.Mungo’s soon as the witch regains consciousness. Here, spare auror robes.” At that she hefted an innocuous cloth bag from her cloak and held it out.  
“I- what?” Harry said intelligently, head spinning with this new information.  
“Someone survived?” Malfoy’s tone was disbelieving, expression so open even this witch they’d only met once could probably read the awe there. Harry felt much the same. How had someone survived?   
“Yup,” The witch popped the p and continued, “dunno how, but glad she did all the same. Heard from an informant she was at St.Mungos and stabilized. Consulted Robards and then came straight for you two. Can’t have you interview her in your civie glamour.”  
Harry tried to regain his composure, “Interview her? Already?”  
The witch nodded, red curls bobbing, “Of course. You two are still the primaries on the case; even if you are undercover. Still, It’s best you just get in and out, don’t need to risk anymore exposure than this already does.”  
Harry nodded walking forward as the witch pulled out her wand. It felt like cold water washed over him as the spell faded away. Which was just as well as they needed to be alert as possible without the glamours. No one needed to see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy exit this building. He pulled on the familiar robes and made sure the hood sat low on his face before turning back to the witch. Malfoy was doing up his own robes when she spoke again, “Right then. I’ll see if the coast is clear and then you follow and we’ll apparate, good?”  
Harry nodded, jaw clenched with sudden nerves he always got before a mission. A minute later a little robin patronus flew through their door to inform them in the unspeakable witch’s voice that they were clear to exit.   
Several appartations for safety's sake later and they were on the steps of St.Mungo’s. The witch, as she’d informed them she would, went ahead first and disappeared into the waiting area so they could go into reception without her. A harried looking older wizard manned the desk in jarringly cheery blue scrubs with little yellow ducks dotting them. The ducks wore little white sailor hats. The wizard wore a frown and a nametag that read, “Garrett, Leo”.   
As they explained who they were and who they needed to see “Garrett, Leo” continued to frown and double checked their auror badges, even insisting on getting a closer look at Harry’s most notable scar. When he was satisfied they were who they said he called over a short witch around his age whose name tag on deep purple scrubs read, “Brown, Cherrie”. Her scrubs were duck free and felt infinitely more appropriate for the grim task ahead of them as they followed her to the victim's room.  
Harry had been with the Aurors for years now; but he hadn’t felt this combination of anger and shock since the end of the war. When he’d seen the bodies of his classmates. Only now, laying on the hospital bed was a grown woman. A woman he’d only met days ago yet felt had become almost a friend. If there was any doubt who lay there it was erased by the clipboard at the end of the bed, reading in clear print: Kazan, Anne. He stole a glance at Malfoy and knew in an instant he’d been hit by the realization just as hard. If not worse, as he’d gotten to know Beth so well. Moving without thinking, Harry walked over to the nurse and engaged her in questions about the patient’s condition. Keeping her back to Malfoy as the other man regained his composure. After a detailed explanation Harry honestly only half understood Malfoy gave him a nod, face unreadable and emotionless. He fixed his already neatly worn robes before walking over and joining the discussion. When the time came to wake the patient neither of them was really prepared but with another silent exchange of looks Harry decided to take the lead. Make things as easy for Malfoy as he could.   
So when Anne Kazan, healer at this very hospital and latest victim of this serial killer woke it was to the serious face of Healer Cherrie and the surprisingly gentle face of the wizarding worlds savior, Harry Potter. And his withdrawn partner, Draco Malfoy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just... a lot of feelings to unpack in this one

It wasn’t easy, interviewing Anne. The glimpse he saw of Beth as they left only stung more; she’d clearly come straight from work, her cafe’s familiar apron still tied on. Things were silent between him and Potter on the way back and when they reached the apartment he now felt like the cheery décor was mocking him. Accusing him of slacking off. Of getting comfortable and complacent when there were still lives on the line. It was horrible to think of Anne as lucky. Yet, she was lucky, so lucky, to have gotten away. If she hadn’t had some muggle invention called pepper spray he doubted anything she tried would have thrown the wizard off as much. And it was a wizard. They had a description now. A description from the hoarse but steady testimony of one very brave witch.   
The unspeakable took their auror robes in an empty room at the hospital; replacing the glamour she’d broken. He and Potter had remained silent the entire way home. Several apparations that were over too quickly.  
Potter let out a long huff and rubbed his scarred hand over his face. Draco was glad for once he hadn’t had to do the majority of the interview. Funny, when with every other partner interviews felt like a battle for dominance. With Potter it hadn’t been that way. It hadn’t felt like he’d beaten him to something by leading the interview. It felt considerate; almost kind. He recalled the look they’d exchanged and wondered just when it was he came to trust Potter so much to let him take over like that. Had they always understood each other so well? No. Probably the opposite.   
But it didn’t matter. What mattered was the case they were working and that the bastard had gotten away. Again.   
What mattered was the suspect list they could narrow down using the description he now hung next to the map of London. The map of incidents that he now marked with another pin. A pin to represent each victim. One to represent Eldreda. Another now for Anne.  
Draco wanted to hex someone, to hit something and resolutely was fighting against the hot tears he could feel threatening to spill behind his eyes. He couldn’t break down. Not now, not people were still depending on him to figure this out. Potter’s growl of frustration as he paced the small room brought him out of his own thoughts, turning to glare at the other man. Potter looked as angry as he felt and the furious pacing was clearly doing him no good. Draco dropped in his desk chair like a sack of bricks and muttered though his hands covering his face,  
“Sit down, Potter. You’ll wear a hole in the floor.”  
Potter scoffed but sat anyway, “I just can’t believe the bastard got away again! How could they not find some trace of him or his magic at the scene?”  
“Because he’s smart.” Draco huffed, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling, “Knows how to erase his tracks.”  
“Well we should know how to unerase them! The aurors should be more prepared, we should have better tracking spells, better-”  
“Better what, Potter? You think we haven’t tried every trick we know on those scenes?”  
“There has to be some way, some residual magic to trace him by-”  
“There isn’t!” When Potter opened his mouth to argue back Draco spat out, “Don’t. I’ve been working on this case for four months. Four. And I’m telling you, every spell, every potion and person I’ve looked into couldn’t find him that way! We aren’t going to find him through his magic!”   
Potter stood just to resume his pacing. Draco went back to staring at the ceiling, not really seeing it. Instead he saw Anne; bruised and bandaged where the healing spells refused to take. Long dark hair a mess, voice hoarse, and so very pale. Her usual tan gone ashen. Every word out of her mouth laced with pain as she described her attacker: white male, late-middle age, wiry build, dark eyes, seemed to rely on his left side when they fought. She couldn’t make out the exact eye and hair color between the darkness, the man’s hooded cloak, and sidedness of the attack. He had a rough nasally voice though. That much she remembered as clear as the words he’d said when he grabbed her, “Filth you’re going to repent! You vile carpet muncher, I’ll show you what’s in store for sinners!”  
Draco shuddered at the fresh memory of Anne, teasing gentle Anne, repeating that monster’s words. Her body had shaken but her hoarse voice was as strong as it was angry. Though she was far more satisfied when she told them of how she’d managed to get away with the help of a technique she’d learned from a muggle movie. A technique called SING: solar plexus, instep, nose, groin. After she’d thrown off her assailant with that she’d used a muggle device called Pepper Spray; which apparently didn’t actually spray peppers but instead produced a thick mist of chemicals that when aimed at an attacker’s face causes temporary pain and even blindness. Draco had to admit the Muggles were certainly clever to invent such a potion and it was perhaps due to Anne’s muggle childhood and relatives that she was still alive now. Draco had never been so happy someone was half-blood; a thought that he’d never have admitted to years ago. Muggle knowledge had saved her life when magic had failed against this man so far, and Draco wasn’t going to deny it. He wasn’t the messed up kid he used to be with all that hate and prejudice ingrained in him. He wasn’t going to become his father. 

“I should have done something!” Harry blurted out, half absorbed in his own thoughts and pacing. Anne was just with them after all. He should have found some discrete protective charm or something. She worked at St.Mungo’s for Merlin’s sake- He should have considered how dangerous her job and commute would be for her.  
“Like what?” Malfoy scoffed from where he sat at his desk, “You’re not a bloody prophet.”  
Harry’s face scrunched in anger as he stopped his pacing to face the other man, his fists balled at his side. Of course Malfoy didn’t think they could have done anything, the pessimist. But Harry felt in his bones that he should- he could have done something. Must have. And so his clever retort was this,   
“Bugger off, just because you don’t think there's anything for it doesn’t mean I shouldn't have been more cautious. I mean, Anne was targeted so that means Beth is in danger too. I should have noticed someone was stalking them, but I didn’t! We haven’t checked their cafe for spells since the first sweep because they are so nice! They’re exactly the kind of people he targets yet I didn’t think to do anything to protect them. I should have set up wards, done sweeps, or something!”  
Malfoy groaned and stood, getting far too close and speaking in a very pointed way, “You couldn’t have protected them. If we’d warded them in any way we might as well throw off our glamours and announce to the world aurors are here! I want to catch this bastard and keep people safe just as badly as you do. I’m just as responsible for what’s happened to Anne. Which is why we cannot rush in and be stupid about this. Look past your bloody hero-complex for a moment and think, Potter!”  
Harry could feel his nails digging into his palms from how tensely he fisted his hands. He could feel his blood still boiling and the heavy weight of guilt pressing upon his shoulders and chest. Malfoy was staring him down, glamour faded and sharp grey eyes a storm. A storm that just challenged him to break through it. He felt it’s hold on him. Malfoy’s eyes, his face, was suddenly the only thing he could focus on, and so he moved to be just as in the other man’s face,   
“I don’t have a hero-complex.”  
Malfoy’s stormy eyes narrowed and he scoffed,   
“And hippogriffs don’t fly.”  
“I’m not bloody obsessed with being a hero!”  
“No, you’re just convinced that every issue could be prevented by you. That you, Saint Potter, can always save the day.” Malfoy retorted dryly, “Newsflash, Potter, that's not how reality works. Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do!”  
“Oh, should I just wallow in grief like you? Don’t act like you don’t blame yourself just as much for everything that’s gone wrong!” Harry fumed, “Or did you forget that I live with you, work with you, see every day just how responsible you feel. I blame myself just as much when things go wrong and it’s got nothing to do with some hero-complex; I just want to keep people safe!”  
Malfoy’s eyes were slits of ice and steel. This close he could see just how long his light lashes actually were, could really recognise the difference in their height. This close he could practically feel the anger and frustration radiating from the other man’s body like heat. 

“Sod off Potter, you don’t know anything about me-” Draco began, but was cut off by a dry laugh from the other man. Potter was up in his face. Fuming and looking for a fight. Well, Draco would give him one then. But Potter had the audacity to cut him off,   
“I know you damn well, Draco Malfoy. I know what you were like in school and I know what you’re like now. You act so arrogant but really the type who never gets enough sleep because you’re always working. I know you have to make a mess of your files and papers to see the big picture. I know you shower late; probably because you are trying to wash the day away. I know you take your tea with little sugar and milk because you actually enjoy a bitter brew. I know sweet foods make your face twist in disgust. I know that you put on this act of being a haughty Malfoy, but I know how deeply things actually feel everything so deeply. I know you’re scared we won’t catch this guy and all these deaths will be left in vain. I know you. So don’t go taking your frustrations out on me.”   
Draco was not shaking, his face was not red and his voice was not strained when he retorted, “Shut up, Potter.”  
Potter never gives up though and he just replied, “Harry.”  
Draco met his eyes then. Deep green and full of some emotions Draco didn’t have it in him to decode, not now, so he just looked away. Potter huffed and he could feel his breath this close, it tickled Draco’s neck, “We’re not children anymore. We’re partners so stop fighting me and use my bloody name, Draco.”  
And that did it. Draco didn’t know what else to do so he swung. Potter dodged the first one and then they were fighting. Draco lashing out and Potter blocking and shoving him back until he was cornered- his back was to the wall. Potter grabbed his wrists and Draco just leaned into the wall, looking anywhere but at Potter. He was drained. He didn’t even want to fight anymore. He was so tired and knew that it was juvenile to cling to their past rivalry as he did but the alternative was terrifying.   
“Look at me, Draco.” Harry’s voice was gentle despite their fight moments before and it hit worse than any spell. Potter had always been magnetic. But he’d always thought of them as opposite poles, ever pushing the other away. Now here they were four years after Hogwarts and everything that had happened and Potter was trying to pull him in. Wanted a connection rather than to keep pushing each other away. When Draco turned to look back at Potter he found it hard to breathe. There wasn’t a trace of anger left on his face. No animosity. Just concern and something like hope.   
Draco suddenly wrenched his hands free but didn’t take off. He was a Slytherin and he could be determined too. He straightened his posture and tilted his head at the other man, “Whatever you say, Harry. Let's just get back to the case.”  
He shoved past the other man and sat at his desk, resolutely getting back to work. They had a killer to kill and anything else he might have been feeling just wasn’t important.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Henry" and "Damien" visit the hospital  
> Harry comes to a sudden realization

Damien and Henry visited the hospital two days after the incident as there was no way for them to know why the café had suddenly closed until they, now properly glamoured once more, “ran into” Beth in the market. Harry did not have to fake the mixture of anger and sympathy when she tearily relayed the news. She’d only left Anne’s side to retrieve changes of clothes. Now as Harry held open the door to Anne’s room at St.Mungos he wasn’t surprised to find Beth seated beside her. Allowing Draco in first he shut the door as the other man presented Anne the bouquet of colorful chrysanthemums and hyacinths he’d ever admit to spending so much time agonizing over selecting for her. Harry greeted Beth with his own gift: a humble loaf of banana bread.   
“I’m not so good a baker as a cook but-” Bashfully he presented the still warm covered dish to the pastry chef, “I thought this would be a safe bet to get past the healers.”  
Beth opened the container and smiled, setting it aside only to surprise him with a hug. After his initial surprise he returned the gesture. When they separated both exchanged greetings with the others before Draco settled into a conversation with Anne and Beth gestured at the seat next to her. Conversation about nothing came surprisingly easy between them. Harry personally had found it was soothing to remember there was an outside world in times of personal turmoil. Beth seemed to appreciate the distraction. They spoke of everything from politics to quidditch. Harry was delighted to find Beth was also an avid Holyhead Harpies supporter, and found it quite difficult to turn the conversation away before he let his familiarity with a certain chaser show.   
He was glad he and Ginny were able to be friends after their relationship ended, just months after the war. Neither had wanted to let the other go but it wasn't love. Not the romantic kind anyway. He'd always be fond of her but in the same way he was fond of Ron. Like family. The Weaslys would always be family to him, because they cared for him in a way his own blood relatives would not. Had taken a scrawny wreck of a kid and treated him like one of their own. Shown him kindness and love really existed in the world. For that he would forever be grateful.   
Both Harry and Beth found their attention wandering often back to the other side of the room. Anne was laughing at something Draco had said in their own quiet conversation and Draco’s lips were twitching in an obvious attempt to resist a smile. His glare more playful than reprimanding. Beside him Beth let out a soft sigh that drew his attention back to her. She was still gazing fondly at the other pair when she spoke softly, “That woman is going to be the death of me.”  
Harry couldn’t help the shocked laugh at her phrasing, considering where they were, and that drew Beth’s attention back to him with a raised brow, “What? It’s true. I don’t know how I'm going to survive between my worry and regard for her.”   
Harry was about to reply but immediately forgot with what words as she cut him off with a crooked smile, “Don’t even try to bullshit me; I can see you’re feeling the same for him. I see the love and fear in your eyes too. I’m sure we’ll all be fine, the Aurors told us they've dedicated extra people to catching him."   
Harry was taken aback, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. For one he didn't know how to reply to that- having been the auror who informed her himself. But her other statement… of course he was worried about Draco. But love? He- No, he wasn’t- He didn’t- He’d begun to care for Malfoy sure but what Beth saw was just that. Care. For his partner. They were just partners; in the auror sense and nothing more.   
Yet, even as he thought that to himself he felt a twinge of something he didn’t want to name in his chest. Instead he schooled his expression into a smile and shrugged, “I fold, remind me never to play poker with you.”  
Beth laughed at his joke and Harry smiled, continuing their conversation from where they’d left off. Back to safer topics. Because while he’d externally regained his composure his thoughts clamored and clashed and it was all he could do not to start pacing the room. Because even though it was a fact that had been glaringly obvious since before Harry had even been assigned this case there was a real and ever present danger to being undercover. This psycho killed gays, targeting couples, and he and Draco posed as one. He knew this. And yet suddenly all he could think of was Draco lying in Anne's place or worse, in the place of one of the previous victims, mangled and left in an alleyway. Cruel words written in his blood. And for the first time in years Harry Potter felt well and truly afraid. All because he couldn’t stand the thought of Malfoy ending up with such a fate. And the implications behind those feelings terrified him even more.

Their visit to the hospital had renewed his determination to solve this case; even if he had to search London brick by brick. Even Potter had been unusually quiet on their way back and as they returned to their investigation. Draco assumed Potter must be feeling much the same about the case. It had gotten personal. He hadn’t meant for it but it had. Meeting Beth and Anne, their targeting and attack, it all felt personal now.   
He was relieved that the aurors had people undercover at the hospital to watch Anne and to tail Beth at all times. This bastard wouldn’t be able to get to them again, not with aurors around. His colleagues might have a low opinion of him but he at least could admit they were capable and formidable folk when it came down to business. He felt better knowing Beth and Anne were protected by the aurors. Even if he'd never tell his fellow aurors that.   
Instead he threw himself into the case, trying to see it from every possible angle and going over every thing they'd learned so far. There were a few suspected he could now cross off the list they'd compiled and now they could also get a description out to the public. People would know what kind of person to be wary of. Tips were already being sent their way via the one way apparition magic placed on their incoming tray. He assumed its duplicate resided with Robards or the unspeakable witch for security. Probably the latter.   
Draco let out a frustrated groan from where he sat in the middle of their office, map and files and tips spread around him on the floor in a pattern that made sense to him. Separating the helpful from the useless. The similarities and clues adding up before him like a half solved puzzle. He rubbed the balls of his hands into his eyes, relishing the pressure and relief the motion provided. He knew there was more he just wasn't seeing. Not yet. It frustrated him incredibly as he once again went over the information they had, not even noticing Potter had reappeared in the office until he cleared his throat.   
Potter was in his usual sleeping attire, joggers and a shirt that looked older than he was. Draco vaguely wondered who or what "Ramones" referred to. Potter had made it all the way up to him and Draco hadn't even realized. He rubbed at his eyes again, irritatedly inquiring, "Something you need, Potter?"   
Potter raised a brow and looked distinctly unimpressed with him, gesturing between Draco and the clock mounted to the wall, "You're not going to solve anything half asleep and delirious, go to bed."   
Draco scoffed, turned to fully face the other man and was fully intending to argue that he didn't need to be chastised like a child when a treacherous yawn escaped his lips instead. He felt his face heat in embarrassment and wanted to throw something at Potters half smug expression that easily read as both an "I told you so" and exasperation.  
Draco glowered up at him, "I'm capable of setting my own bed time, thank you."  
"It's nearly three in the morning."   
The clock confirmed Potter's words but Draco was stubborn, he fully intended to remain working. He wasn't that tired. Really. But then Potter rolled his eyes, crouched next to him only to take Draco's hand firmly in his own and pull them both to a stand. Draco stumbled at the sudden movement but Potter caught and steadied him by the hip, his other hand still holding Draco's.   
Draco could just barely make out his own reflection in the transfigured frames Potter wore. He wondered if his own eyes were as deeply lined with shadows and fatigue. Probably.   
"Come on," Potter spoke quietly, "or do you need me to carry you to bed?"   
There was a hint of challenge in that and Draco snorted, an undignified noise only Potter seemed to draw from him, drawling,   
"As if you could lift me. Gained a little weight pretending to be a civilian, haven't you?"   
Potter's eyes narrowed and for a moment Draco felt the familiar spark of challenge between them. Until he was suddenly being hoisted over Potter's shoulder; Draco definitely did not squeal in surprise. He was however insistent the other man put him down. Even if the view wasn't half bad- he wasn't going to tell Potter that.   
Potter did not in fact put him down, carrying Draco in such an unseemly manner out of the office, though the apartment's little living area and into the bedroom. Where Draco found himself rather unceremoniously dumped on the bed, face red and protesting still,   
"Was that really necessary?"  
Potter just gave him the same unimpressed look from earlier as Draco sat up until a smile broke through and then he was outright laughing. The bastard. Drack scoffed,   
"Really? Move already, I've work to finish."   
When Draco made to stand however Potter blocked the doorway, shaking his head, "Nope."  
Draco opened his mouth to argue but was cut off once again by Potter,   
"Nope. It's past three and you won't be able to get anything done if you can't keep your eyes open tomorrow. Not to mention you're going to be miserable on patrol in the morning. Or did you forget it's your turn?"   
Draco groaned. Morning patrol. He might have forgotten that small detail in his vigor to get back to work on the case. He found himself sitting back on the bed rubbing at his eyes once more in frustration. When the stars cleared from his vision Potter was still there. He'd moved from the doorway and was standing halfway between the door and the bed, just looking at him in concern. Maybe it was the exhaustion or some other malady had taken him but Draco didn't feel any pity from his look, just warmth. Genuine concern. And when had Potter decided he was someone worth getting concerned about instead of someone to hold in suspicion? Draco didn't know and so he shooed the other man out the door.   
-  
His chest ached, phantom pain from long numb scars. His back blistered from the flames licking his back. He knew he'd have a scar. He'd lived through this before. But in the twisted depths of his subconscious his grip on Potter slipped and the other boy, for they were both as they were then- practically children, looked back at him. And shoved.   
Potters laughing face morphed into his father's mirthless eyes. Lucius Malfoy strode up to him in the sitting room that only held fire in its proper place, granite mantle above that stared back at him with soulless eyes upon carved snakes. The impact of his father's glove against his cheek was nothing new. He'd braced for it. It still stung. Cursing him for being a failure, a stain on the family legacy, he lifted him by the collar saying were Draco not his only heir he would have- and the face wasn't his fathers anymore but Voldemort's. He held him off the tower at Hogwarts from where Dumbledore had fallen and he-   
"Draco!"   
The voice was oh so familiar and panicked and Voldemort disappeared with a snap and then Draco opened his eyes to darkness and lashed out wildly with his arms. By the time he'd come to the realization of where he was and who was beside him he was sure Potter would be sporting a bruise from at least one of his crazed blows. Yet, as the other man stared back at him there was no anger or irritation. Just the same panicked concern he'd felt come through even in his dream.   
His nightmare. He let out a huff of air and fell back into the pillows. It was just another nightmare: a tamer one at that. He shouldn't have forgotten his dose of dreamless sleep no matter how tired he'd been. The nightmares were the worse alternative to the risks of his continued use of the brew.   
"You alright?" Potter's voice was quiet, almost timid in the dark. Draco's eyes had started to adjust to the dim meaning he could just make out the shape of Potter sat next to him, hand still on Draco's arm from where he'd tried to calm him. He managed a weak nod then, remembering how dark it was, a weak, "Yes."  
Potter let out a sigh that sounded like he'd been holding his breath and replied, "Alright. Just-" he hesitated, shifting where he sat, "you- if you want to talk, I'm here Draco."   
Draco didn't know how to reply so he didn't. Potter took his silence as his que to leave but before he'd even made the choice to do so Draco had reached out to grab his hand. As if he were drawn to. As if taking Potter's hand in his own was the most natural thing in the world. Yet, the other man didn't pull away. Just spoke softly, "Draco?"   
And it was just his name. He'd always been Draco Malfoy. He'd heard his friends, his family call him Draco since the day he was born. So why did the name feel so different at this moment? Why was it he couldn't let go?   
He knew. He knew all along keeping the thoughts deep down, buried with any other foolish notions that would never happen and so were poison to dwell on. And yet it remained. This feeling. And Draco found that tonight he couldn't quite find the strength to let go. So he didn't.   
"Stay?"   
The word left his mouth as soon as the question formed in his mind. Draco cursed his own weakness- that is he did so internally until he heard the second most amazing thing that night, when Potter whispered back,   
"Okay."  
And he found himself shifting to make room in the bed. There was room. So much more further to the side but Potter made no comment as he slipped under the covers and they lay there. Shoulder against shoulder, hands still entwined. Draco thought surely the sound of his heart beating would drive the other man away. Then Harry let go of his hand and shifted and Draco thought he'd gone to far. But Potter shifted toward him instead, arm held out in hesitation, silent question on his face Draco was now close enough to see. And of all his sins, his failures due to weakness, of all his shames he knew this would be the greatest. Yet he nodded anyway, whispering his answer, his demand, his plea,   
"Just- hold me."  
And Harry did.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes a gamble

Neither really commented on the shift in their routine. After another night bout of nightmares from each man they simply took to sharing the bed. The comfort of another body beside them. It was nothing more than that - or so Draco willed himself to believe as the week passed. They’d made a little progress narrowing down their search area and suspect list. Draco knew there was no way to speed up the process without another incident, and he did not want that, yet it was still difficult for him that things progressed so slow. Apparently Potter felt the same, if the nearly doubled amount of patrols he took was any indication. Outside of meals and working late into the evenings they barely saw one another. Their conversations which had begun to flow so easily were now non-existent. He felt a twinge of guilt for wishing things could go back to how they’d been before Anne was attacked, he knew that was selfish. They should have been more focused on the case even then. It was foolish to get caught up in anything else. There wasn’t even technically anything to get distracted by - they were just two aurors working a case. Nothing more.   
Draco rounded one poorly lit alley into another, looking for all the world just another shopper who decided to take a risky detour. Or so he hoped as he kept his face a neutral mask of distraction and cast discreet spells to sense dark magic. They hadn’t been able to get a magical signature from the alley Anne was attacked in as once again the wizard had managed to erase it before he fled. Or simply left no trace somehow. Neither should have been possible in any case and so their best bet were the sweeping spells for general dark magic.  
At the same time he sees a grey form turn down a corner a ways ahead of him his previously dormant sensor spell sends warning sparks along his arm. Only residual dark magic would have caused that. So, wand at the ready just in case, he pulled his hooded robes tighter around himself and sped up to see if the magic had originated from the same figure that had turned down this alley. It was a dead end. And there was no one in sight. Yet the increased prickling along his arm warned he was closer than ever to a source of dark magic. He took a step forward. The alleyway was empty, almost pristine from the light layering of snow that coated everything. Undisturbed snow. Where were the footprints of the person who’d turned down this way? Unease tickled at his spine as he looked up again at where the alley ended abruptly. There were no doors or windows in sight, just towering brick walls on all sides that hadn’t even been touched by graffiti.   
He swung back the way he came, pressing himself against a dingy brick wall and not a moment too soon as a curse whirred past the spot he’d just been standing. Not good. He sprinted for the nearest cover he could find, not even caring in the moment that the only cover was a filthy industrial garbage bin. A wizard came cautiously around the corner- from the dead end that he now knew had been a glamour. An advanced one. Hastily constructed as evidenced by the lack of detail he’d seen. He knew had been too pristine. But that really wasn’t his greatest concern at the moment as the man scanned the alley with slow hawk like focus, wand raised. The man looked quite like Anne had described. A thin white late-middle age man with dark eyes. Long pieces of brown hair had escaped from the man’s hooded grey cloak and his nose was distinctly broken looking as if from an old injury never properly healed.   
What transpired next felt like an eternity but was likely no more than a few moments as the man scanned the alley before letting out a quiet curse, spitting, and turning on his heel to disparate. Draco didn’t hesitate to cast a modified tracking spell but knew the instant it impacted that it wouldn’t be of much use as it rippled off the disappearing form. He could only hope he’d tweaked the spell correctly.   
Coming out from behind his impromptu shelter he reached the spot the man had vanished from and examined the snow muddied ground. Draco bent to pick up a simple wooden button, wiping grime from it with a handkerchief he pulled from his own pocket. His tracking spell may have bounced off the man but not without making the impact Draco had hoping for. It was a risk and one he couldn’t even be sure would pan out as he’d not attempted the spell before - yet it had worked. Draco felt a swell of triumph in his chest. The impact of his spell had knocked this button loose, just as he’d hoped it would. Now they’d just have to hope the cloak had belonged to the man long enough to leave a trace of his person behind on it.

“Henry” had a shift at Olivander’s that day and so Harry didn’t make it back to the little apartment until near dinner time. He did a quick sweep of the apartment block before entering just in case. After what happened to Anne he felt a bit of paranoia was not only justified but warranted. Even when he found nothing the tension remained in his shoulders all the way into their little apartment. Even the sound of Draco humming happily drifting from the open cabinet didn’t lessen the tension. Harry shook his head as he locked up, Draco really should be more careful to keep their office hidden. After hanging his robe and casting a quick cleansing spell over his muddied boots he headed for the office to see what had Draco in such a pleasant mood.   
Draco was hunched over his desk, a glow of green coming from whatever it was he was leaning over. Sparks of electric blue shot up from the glow suddenly and Draco stopped his humming in a sudden string of choice words. Harry couldn’t help the chuckle that left him at the sight, tension finally leaving his shoulders. Draco whipped around to face him face flushed in either embarrassment or excitement Harry couldn’t tell as he’d started speaking rapidly,   
“Oh, good your back! Don’t just bloody stand there; come look at this!”  
Intrigued Harry moved to stand next to the other man, Draco moving his hand and wand once again to dispel whatever had created the green aura. On Malfoy’s cleared desk sat a simple wooden button. Harry frowned in confusion. Looking up into Draco’s grey eyes that danced with humor for the first time in- merlin how long had it been since he’d seen Malfoy smile like that? But what did a button have to do with anything? Harry was just about to ask the question when Malfoy began speaking again,   
“I tried out a modified tracking spell; the intended effect being that if it couldn't stick to the person that it would have enough impact to dislodge something on their person,” he then picked up the button and held it up for Harry to better see, “and look! It worked!”  
Harry still looked at the button in confusion but attempted a smile, “And who was the victim of your experiment? One of the vendors?”  
Draco’s smile fell and his eyes darkened as he shook his head, placing the button down on the desk once more. A heavy silence weighed upon them at the motion. When Draco didn’t answer him, when he wouldn’t meet his gaze but chose instead to stare at the button with an unreadable look Harry could feel a heavy weight settle in his stomach.   
“Draco,” He placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, turning him firmly but gently to face him, “who’s button is that?”  
Still not meeting his eyes Draco’s face pinched but when he did meet Harry’s eyes all he saw there was anger and determination,   
“The killer's.”  
Harry’s heart came to a sudden stop. Draco was rambling vehemently about how he wasn’t entirely sure but the man fit the description so well. Harry didn’t say a word as Draco continued relaying the event’s of his afternoon to him. He’d been attacked. He’d been attacked and didn't think that was important enough to inform him about? Draco was now going on about his theory and the spell he’d hit the man with as he disapperated. Harry’s hand tightened on the other man’s shoulder and he finally found his voice, cutting Malfoy off,   
“Are you insane?”  
Malfoy stopped whatever he had been saying and jerked his shoulder free from Harry’s grasp. Glare now reaffixed to his face, “It was worth the risk of exposure- I’m this close to isolating his magical signature with the spell I’ve been working on!”   
Harry let out a disbelieving huff, “Exposure? You could have been killed! He could recognize your glamour now! What the hell were you thinking? How could you be so damn reckless?!”  
Malfoy scoffed, “Look here, Gryffindor, don’t think you can accuse me of recklessness when you wrote the book on it! I only did my job!”  
Harry’s blood is boiling, which is funny since he’s not sure his heart ever started beating again. He can only look Malfoy over in fury, checking he wasn’t injured because Malfoy would lie about something like that and call it keeping it to himself. As if that's different. Malfoy protested when Harry moved around him to check him over like a healer, lifting his arms and circling him but Harry didn’t care. He had to be sure he wasn’t injured. That he was okay. Malfoy was sputtering in indignation when Harry face him again, “I’m not a child, I’d have said something if I needed healing. Which I don’t, so-”  
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off when Harry pulled him into a bone crushing embrace. He was okay. The bloody idiot. The brilliant reckless idiot.   
Harry’s not sure how long he holds onto Malfoy for, eyes squeezed shut and letting out a breath of relief. Eventually Draco raised his arms to circle around Harry as well and Harry doesn't want to let go. Doesn’t want to end the embrace. Malfoy was here and alright and a warm solid presence in his arms. Harry felt his breathing return to normal- his heart once again beating if a bit wildly.   
They stay like that for who knows how long as neither dared to break the moment’s silence. As if there was a spell holding them together and a single word could shatter it. Yet, Harry does let go eventually, just enough to look Draco in the eyes. For Draco to see the desperation and concern in his eyes. He needed Draco to understand even if he wasn’t willing to admit why it matters so much to him that he does.  
“Don’t ever do that again. Promise me you would confront him on your own again. Promise me.”  
It was spoken like a command but it wasn’t. It was a plea. And finally Draco nodded and only hesitated for a moment before replying,   
“I promise.”  
Harry searches Draco's eyes, a grey storm of emotion he can't read swirling in their depths - if Draco's eyes are a storm, his shoulders are the tether Harry clings to. A solid form in the uncertainty that now squashes his heart. Harry is simultaneously grateful and loathes the tangible distance of their arms. He doesn't know if he's brave enough to venture closer to that storm, he fears maybe it's only him that's being swept away.   
So he let's go and says, "Good. Good, its policy after all. Can't make an arrest solo."   
Something in Draco's expression falls before returning to his usual sardonic mask and he nods.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ollivander is wise and our boys? Not so much...

Harry had come to a realization after bidding Draco goodnight and choosing to sleep on the sofa. He was, completely and utterly bollixed.   
Harry wasn't dumb, though he knew he could be dense sometimes, and after tonight he really struggled not to come to this realization. That he's in love. With Draco. He's in love with Draco Malfoy. Even acknowledging it his own thoughts made Harry feel all jumbled up inside.   
How had this happened? When did it start? Sure, he'd always found Draco attractive but…   
Harry thought back to their school days. To the war. To the trials. To seeing Draco around the office. To the past couple months undercover. Draco was a constant in his life; something he never really connected until now.   
They'd started off as childish rivals, sure, but they'd also grown together - paths always meeting now and again if not completely entangled. Draco Malfoy was both the most constant and unpredictable thing in his life.  
Harry found as he lay on the old sofa and stared over at the shut bedroom door that it was something he wanted to continue. He wanted Draco in his life. He wanted to be near Draco. To know him; all of him. To keep learning things day by day, like how he took his tea, that he bit his nails, that he scrunched up his nose in the most adorable fashion when he really concentrated on something.  
Harry wanted to keep getting to know Draco - and for Draco to know him in turn.  
Yet he was entirely stumped as to if such feelings would be welcomed or not. Sure, undercover they were close. But could it be more than just a cover to Draco? He could just be doing his job, not meaning anything more but to maintain the facade of a couple. Harry hoped it wasn't the case and yet at the same time felt guilty for even thinking it.   
They have a mission to complete. People's lives are at stake and here he is sleepless and mooning over his auror partner like some hormonal teenager. He needed to get a grip. He had to.  
-  
Ollivander's shop was quiet most mornings. Harry usually took the quiet early hours to go over the case or read. Sometimes he even actually helped Olivander around the shop and the shop was certainly cleaner since “Henry” started working there.   
Harry cleaned on impulse. He cleaned when he was anxious or angry or in this case; confused. Merlin was he at odds. His heart and his mind seemed to be having a duel and there was no amount of deep breathing or reading that could calm him. So he cleaned. He threw himself into dusting and decluttering and used his wand as little as possible because well he’d grown up cleaning this way and the habit had stuck.  
Apparently he cleaned so long that Olivander had to come see why he hadn’t left for lunch. The older man seemed bemused rather than angry to find him so distracted and when Harry started to apologize for losing track of time Ollivander just held up a hand, shaking his head.   
“It’s alright my boy,” his tone was full of suppressed laughter as he went on, “but what’s got you in such a tizzy, young man? It does not seem like you.”  
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in a sigh and shook his head. Even if he wasn’t undercover he wouldn’t know where to begin. His own feelings had become painfully clear but Draco was as much a mystery as ever. He didn’t want to lose the tentative trust they’d built. He’d rather have Draco in his life as a friend or coworker over not at all if he acted on these feelings and Draco took it poorly. He could more than reject him. He could go back to leading a completely separate life, never interacting even though they worked in the same department and Harry didn’t know if he would survive that. Seeing glimpses of him around the office but not never able to approach him. An unwanted presence.   
Harry would take as much or as little as Draco wished to share with him, but he didn’t know if he could ever go back to ignoring each other.   
Ollivander coughed, bringing him back to the present, and the old man’s pale eyes seemed to twinkle in understanding as he spoke,   
“You know, all great things come with risk Mr.Varma. It depends on the wizard whether that great thing becomes an opportunity lost or an experience gained.”  
“What?” Harry replied, intelligently.  
Ollivander chuckled, “You seemed a bit lost. Take it from someone with a lifetime of experience - and a lifetime of regrets - whatever it is your pondering, we tend to regret most the actions not taken more so than even the ones that don’t end in our favor.”  
Harry felt, not for the first time in his life, as if the older man could somehow see into his thoughts. Perhaps he could, there was always more unknown to magic than Harry would ever learn.   
He sighed again, this time gentler as his shoulders sagged forward and his brow scrunched in thought,  
“How do you know?”  
Ollivander raised a pale eyebrow in question, so Harry elaborated,   
“How do you know what others feel? How can I know what he-” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, fist clenched at his sides. He couldn’t ask this of the other man. He couldn’t allow himself to be so exposed. He was toeing a dangerous line already. He should really go.   
Yet before he could make for the exit a gentle weight landed on his bicep and Harry looked up to find Ollivander smiling gently at him. Sadly, even. As if he understood without Harry finishing the question.  
When he spoke again it was in his usual solemn rumble,   
“My wife, Anise, was a spitfire. She wore her heart on her sleeve and there was never a moment to doubt her opinions as she'd make them well known. Now, she was someone who could take the measure of a person within moments of meeting them. But that wasn’t all she was; she was as complex a witch as anyone. There were sides to her no one could claim to know.  
Yet, she trusted me with them. I was lucky. So lucky to be trusted by her in such a way. She showed me every side of her and let me learn every little secret gesture. After knowing her, I was able to see more in the actions of others. Yes, she was loud and assertive and confident. But she had worries. Had moments when that confidence fluttered. And she shared those things with me. She allowed me to see that side of her and so I learned to pick it up in her when no one else could. You know why?”  
Harry shook his head, entranced.  
“Trust, Mr.Varma. And trust reciprocated. I gave her all of myself for all of hers. That is how I learned to see what others hide. Because such an amazing creature as Anise chose to grant me entrance into her heart and mind. Once you've come to understand someone so complexly as we knew each other you start seeing those little things in strangers. To know her was to know a stranger who became half my soul."   
Harry didn't know what to say to that, could only gape at the older man for a moment before finding his voice in a whisper,  
"I-" he gulped around the sudden lump in his throat, "was it worth it?"   
And it was selfish, incredibly so, to ask that of Ollivander who had lost that other half of his soul. But the kindly old mans eyes held only warmth when he replied in a whisper thick with emotion,   
"Yes." 

Something was off with Potter today, Draco noticed. They were touring venues and Potter had been distracted the first two places. When he didn't return from the "bathroom" Draco began to worry in earnest. "Bathroom" was their crude but effective code for Draco to distract the host while he scanned the place. It had been too long since Potter had left so Draco made his best attempt at charming the host before setting off to recover his wayward partner.   
He found Potter crouched by a back entrance in a storage room and sighed loudly. Startled green eyes met his and Draco was finding it increasingly hard as he moved closer to remain mad at the man when he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Potter stood and they were close enough to whisper without being overheard, so Draco did,   
"What's the hold up?"   
Potter looked anywhere but at him when he replied,   
"Doing a more in depth charm - the residual tracer found something. Possibly dark magic."   
Draco frowned and subconsciously moved forward speaking softly,   
"Right, how long then?"   
"Just a few," Potter's reply was cut short by the creak of the door opening. Draco glanced between the softly glowing charm potter had cast on the area and the way back. If the host turned around that stack of boxes they'd be entirely-   
Before he could even finish the thought Potter had shoved him back, hands clasped on Dracos shoulders as his back made contact with another nearby pile of boxes. Just out of view of the charm.   
"Sorry,"  
Was all Potter said before his lips met Draco's.   
It was forceful but his lips were surprisingly gentle on Draco's as he moved a hand to entangle in his hair. Draco tipped his head back at the movement and felt Harry's lips trace his jaw, leaving a gentle trail of fire in each spot his lips touched Draco's skin.   
"Ahem!"   
The loud noise snapped him out of whatever that had been and Draco didn't have to fake the embarrassment and flush that must be covering his features. If his mind hadn't just short circuited perhaps he'd even be angry but all he could think about as he watched Harry speak to the venue's host was how right Harry's lips had felt on his own. How his jaw tingled with the phantom trace of his kisses.   
They were, needless to say, politely escorted out by the rather flustered host just minutes later. Even Potter flushed red at their host's parting joke of, "Save some for the wedding!"   
Draco's very atoms felt aflame. Even the snow falling around them as they made the silent trek back to their apartment couldn't make a dent in the warmth he felt. And it was a unsettling a warmth as the feindfyre had been so many years ago. Draco didn't know if he would survive this. If he did, where would that leave them? Because Draco was just as in love with Harry Potter now as he had been back then. Yet this time instead of saving him Draco felt as if he'd been plunged into the flames to figure things out on his own. Which wasn't true, the rational part of him argued, Harry had just been acting to save their cover. Saint Potter had simply made another sacrifice for the greater good. Yet Draco couldn't help the burning behind his eyes or the clinch of his fists as they entered the apartment.   
"Draco, I-"   
And Potter was facing him. His three piece suit and transfigured frames a reminder of their cover but his perpetually disorderly curls and worried green eyes the same Harry he'd always known. Draco had allowed himself to be pulled in by that mix of familiarity and newness. There was only one thing left he could do to keep himself sane, so he shoved Potter out of his way.   
"Not now Potter, I've got to brush my teeth. Really, next time warn a fellow or at least use a refresher charm first."   
And with that Draco stomped off to the bedroom; only to fall back on the closed door taking in shuddering breaths. He touched a shaking hand to his lips and cursed.   
He couldn't know that on the other side of the door a similar breakdown was occurring.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST - don't say I didn't warn you...

Draco left for his morning patrol before Harry even woke, only pausing briefly as something in his chest clenched at leaving Harry fitfully sleeping on the sofa. He barely fit on the thing, legs curled up in what couldn’t have been a comfortable way as his face twisted in a frown. Even in sleep he was fighting something. Ever the hero. A quote came unbidden to him during that moment of hesitation by the door,   
“Name one hero who was happy.”  
Draco left quickly after the thought came. He was being overdramatic, even for him, to act this way. Potter had only done what he had to in the moment to create a distraction. It didn’t mean anything. It was just an act, to hide his spell and maintain their cover. It meant nothing to Potter. Draco would have done the same. Wouldn’t he? Suddenly he wasn’t so sure. The uncertainty felt like bile in his gut, an ache worse than any blow. He was deeply unsettled and clenched his eyes shut to steady his breaths.   
He shouldn’t- couldn’t- be thinking so much about this. They have a killer to catch. Someone who had already hurt people Draco had come to care for even if just a bit. He’d messed up enough already. He couldn't afford to keep going down the path his thoughts and the ache in his chest tugged at him too take. It was inescapable, the feelings he’d carried for so long, but he hadn’t ever wished them away so much as he did now.   
Draco Malfoy allowed himself a moment of weakness; a moment of dry sorrow, his back to some filthy alley wall and his fists clenched at his sides. Then he forced up his chin. Held his head high and shook it roughly. Determined to put these fruitless thoughts aside to focus on the case. On the patrol he had meant to start. He threw himself into his work and pretended he didn’t still feel like his chest had been torn open.   
Hours later, frustrated, cold, and hungry from the rash decision he’d made to skip breakfast in favor of vacating the apartment Draco found himself standing in front of a now familiar storefront. “Tokens of my Confection”, declared the pastel script across the door and on the sign above. Draco couldn't help the smile that felt half a wince at the cheesy name Beth had chosen. It must have made Anne laugh for her to have picked it, perhaps it was even Anne who suggested it- it did seem something the shorter woman would come up with.   
Draco was entering the cafe before he even made a decision to. The cafe’s warmth washed away the chill he’d begun to feel numb to outside, it covered him like a blanket and the scent of fresh baked goods had him relaxing for the first time since the day before. He approached the counter and ordered his usual from one of the local girls Beth had hired. The exchange was friendly and informal and Draco’s thoughts turned back to the cafe’s owners as he found a table. It had been a week since their visit to Anne’s hospital room and he debated stopping in for a visit instead of heading back to the apartment for lunch. But just as the thought formed a familiar voice interrupted his musings, followed shortly by the woman herself flopping down into the chair across from his,   
“You look about how I feel.”  
Beth said it in a joking manner but nevertheless he felt the truth behind her statement. She had dark circles under her pale brown eyes and though she smiled at him it was weary. Draco made his best to return the smile but knew he’d been only as successful as she.  
“How is she?”  
Draco didn’t have to elaborate for her to know who he meant. There was only one person he could mean. Beth let out a heavy sigh swiping a hand over her golden hair, adding another streak of flour to a few endearing others, before she found her voice,   
“She’s okay. As well as can be expected at least. The healers aren’t entirely sure what he cast on her but the wounds are healing even if it’s slower than normal. That has to be a good sign.” She let out a dry laugh but a genuine smile formed on her lips as she kept speaking, “Anne, the stubborn witch is already raring to get back to work. I know for a fact certain Healers are letting her read their patient reports and give feedback- despite those very healers prescribing her bed rest.”  
This smile draco was able to return in amusement, “Sounds like someone can’t practice what she preaches.”  
Beth laughed, genuine loud and full, at the comment, “Oh, that’s a good point. I’ll be sure to use it next time she complains. That she should uphold haler professionalism and what not.”  
The snort that followed her words was so loud what few customers were in and even the girl manning the counter looked over in surprise. Draco, to his credit, really made a valiant effort not to laugh. An effort that broke as soon as the woman herself fell into a fit of laughter at the sudden attention. They laughed together and perhaps a few people looked at them as if they’d lost their minds, and perhaps they had, but Draco was just happy to see the woman smiling.   
When they recovered from their sudden fit of comedy Beth dabbed at her eyes with one of the cloth napkins always rolled neatly in a bowl on the tables. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help returning it, feeling if only for this fragile moment, at peace. Then Beth let out a breath and leaned forward on her elbows, still smiling gently as she inquired,   
“So, what had you looking so glum earlier?”  
Draco’s sense of peace immediately fled him and the turmoil that had plagued him returned in force. Dropping his gaze from hers he worried his bottom lip with his teeth before answering unconvincingly even to his own ears, “It’s nothing really.”  
“Uh-huh,” Beth’s disbelief was clear in her tone and expression but she didn’t push. Draco sighed softly before lifting his gaze back to hers. He caves quietly,   
“It’s Ha- Henry.” His near slip up only caused his frown to deepen and his gaze to turn from her earnest one once again. This was a bad idea. This-  
“Is he alright?” Beth asked quietly and Draco nearly jumped in his seat at the question but rushed to reassure her,   
“No! I mean yes! He is fine. It’s not that. I’m sorry, it’s rude of me to vent to you with everything you’ve just been through. I apologize.”  
Beth let out another snort, quieter this time, and raised a thick brow at him,   
“I am trying to maintain some facade of normalcy you know, not wallow in my worry and all that. If you need an ear, well I don’t mind. You’ve been here for us.”  
Draco felt a bit taken aback and then had to push away the emotions her statement evoked. Had to remind himself of the necessity his cover remain intact. While he was having this internal meltdown Beth asked gently, “So?”  
“I-” Draco started then huffed, rubbing his hands over his eyes as if to clear away the mess in his mind, admitting, “We just had a row.”  
Beth nodded as if in understanding, “And how’d that come about?”  
“We- Well he did something stupid I’m still not sure how to feel about what happened,” he paused to take in a breath, “...And i’m ashamed of how I’ve acted toward him since but I still don’t really know how to feel.”  
“Are you mad or hurt?”  
“A bit of both? I don’t know. I’m not sure what I feel.”  
Beth nodded and stayed silent for a few moments in contemplation,   
“Well, do you want to move past it? I’m sure the two of you can find a way past it. I don’t know what stupid thing he did but I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I can’t doubt his devotion to you.”  
Draco sputtered at that, “I- the way he-?”  
Beth raised her brow in amusement once again, “The man looks at you with such tenderness sometimes I’d worry if younger eyes were present.”  
Draco could feel the flush crossing his cheeks and rising up his neck, “He does not-”  
“Watch you all the time with a dopey expression and jump to support you in every conversation we’ve ever had?” She was shaking her head in amusement now at Draco who could only gape, “I swear the two of you look at each other like the other hung the moon. It’s sweet.”  
Draco’s face was well and truly burning. He thinks vaguely there may even be a ringing in his ears but all he can do is process and reprocess Beth’s words. Luckily the girl at the counter calls out to her before he has to form a reply and she bids him a bemused goodbye.  
Harry looks at him like-? He does not- They aren’t even-   
Draco is vaguely aware of leaving the café as his brain continues to short circuit. Beth was clearly reading too much into their facade. Clearly. She had to be. Right. There was no way Harry bloody Potter looked at him of all people the way Beth described. It was impossible. Laughable. Because if Harry felt that way for him then- then-   
He had kissed him. But, he’d apolgized for it! He couldn’t have enjoyed it. But then he didn’t really need to start kissing his jaw after or- no. Nope. It wasn’t possible. Draco was clearly just reading what he wanted into the situation- but then- what had Beth been talking about? Did he really look at Harry so obviously about his feelings? Did- Did he really look at Draco the same way in return..?  
His mind ran over their every interaction the past few months. He dismissed the moments they spent undercover. It wasn’t so easy to discard the moments they didn’t have to pretend. All the times they’d reached out for one another in comfort. All the times Harry had brought him his tea, just the way he liked and teased him for his bitter taste. He re-evaluated every look he could remember Harry threw his way. Every way in which they’d grown closer. How he seemed to be able to tell from a nod or a tilt of his head what Draco was thinking. How he’d felt he had begun to understand those things from Harry as well.   
Draco’s mind circled back to the kiss like a broken record. He couldn’t get it out of his mind even as he entered the, thankfully deserted, local park. He thought of how gentle Harry had been, how it felt more than a simple pressing of lips. He thought of the mix of emotions he’d seen in Harry’s eyes just before the kiss. Had he regretted the kiss even before it happened? Or had he regretted it happening in such a way? Or happening at all?   
He thought of Harry’s face as he’d tried to speak to him the night before, when they’d returned and Draco had felt much like he did now. Harry had looked- sad wasn’t quite the word was it? Perplexed? ...Heartsick, perhaps, fit the look. But why?   
Draco had plopped down on a bench at some point and leaned his elbows into his knees. He now dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed at it furiously. Like the motion would make things fall into place. Perhaps they already had. But what if he was wrong? If Beth was wrong? Draco wouldn’t survive this time, he thought. If it was all his one sided yearning after all these years and Harry found out… Draco didn’t want to think about what would happen then. He’d rather they go back to simply distant coworkers than that. At least then he could still look Harry in the eyes. But something traitorous in his chest told him he wouldn’t survive that either. That one was just a slow poison, a cowards way out.   
He thought again to how certain Beth seemed, how Harry had acted in private all those times when he could have simply ignored or turned away from him. All the times he beat him at chess, recited his takeout order from memory or chided Draco for staying up too late. Draco thought of the way he knew he looked at Harry and he reevaluated the way Harry looked at him.   
It was insane, and Draco was likely going to regret it with his luck but he’d come to the conclusion that this thing he felt between them could go ignored no longer. Not if he was to retain any shred of sanity. So, he made his way to Ollivander’s and entered the ancient wand shop with a strength of will he didn’t even realize he possessed when he asked the older man where he might find, “Henry Varma.”  
Ollivander looked at him with something twinkling in his pale eyes, before drawing out, “I’m sorry my boy, you’ve just missed him. Done for the day.”  
Draco thanked him and managed a polite farewell. If Harry had already left then he was probably headed to the apartment. Draco could have apparated there but he needed the time and the cold wind to help him think. What was he going to say exactly? He couldn’t just rush in without a plan- that was so gryffindor! Damn Potter must be rubbing off on him. No, he needed a plan. What to say. How to test the waters before the conversation got to far for recovery if he was wrong. Draco had worked out a rough draft by the time he stood outside their door, and taking a steadying breath he entered.   
To nothing. After a quick inspection he realized Harry wasn’t yet back and so he puts on a pot of tea and prepares. He drinks his tea and waits.   
And he waits.  
And the sun has started to sink in the sky, along with the horrible feeling in Draco’s stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to those of you who knew the quote "Name one hero who was happy." is from the AMAZING book The Song of Achilles! I highly recommend it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's version of the previous chapter and it's resolution

Harry pressed his head to the door Draco had closed firmly between them and let out a shuddering breath. All his senses screamed at him to move, to pace, to confront this, to find whatever was causing his chest to feel like a cave-in and fix it. But he couldn’t do anything to fix what he’d done tonight. He’d crossed a line in their tentative friendship and Draco had made his opinion on the kiss fairly clear. He was disguised. Harry felt disgusted by himself as well, he didn’t even know if Draco liked blokes and he’d forced a kiss on him. He hadn’t even asked. Didn’t check to see if such a thing would be alright with the other man.   
They’d been standing so close and Harry had barely managed to hear Draco over the pounding of his heart. He was already trying to keep thoughts of moving closer to Draco out of his mind when they had been interrupted and in the end he acted, as he was wont to do, on his first impulse. He’d kissed Draco because he wanted to. He didn’t want their cover ruined but there were probably a hundred different things he could have done in that moment to cause a distraction. He laughed humorlessly at the thought that Hermione could probably give him the list alphabetized and in order of projected success. It was moments like these, moments when Harry felt so desperately alone, that he wished he could reach out to his friends for advice. Ron would be hilariously horrified that he’d locked lips with his former nemesis and Hermione would have probably figured out his feelings before he even did.  
But they weren’t here. This assignment had fallen to him and Draco; and Harry had royally screwed it up. Kissing Draco had been all he could think of in that panicked moment. He’d nearly exposed their cover because of his own inability to set his feelings aside and he lost Draco’s trust because of his selfish desire. Harry didn’t even know where to begin to get Draco to forgive his actions, and the thought stung worse than any hex.   
-  
Harry woke with a headache. It didn’t help ease his frustrations to realize Draco was nowhere to be found in the apartment. He must have left early to avoid him, probably didn’t even want to look at Harry after he’d so terribly overstepped. Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and fixed his glasses; continuing the internal debate he’d fallen asleep to. After a quick change of clothes and an attempt at breakfast he left the apartment without any real destination. Ollivander’s was closed today. He didn’t know what else to do with all his pent up energy so he ran. He ran and only when his legs and lungs ached in protest and the cold air felt like shards of glass to breathe in did he rest. He’d wound up in a different part of the city and leaned against a wall to catch his breath, to order his thoughts.   
Draco probably hated him. At the very least the other man was angry at him and Harry would have to apologize for crossing a line in their professional relationship. Because as much as Harry may have wished otherwise a professional relationship was the only relationship they had. He had to stop thinking about Draco like he did. Stop thinking about how soft his lips were and how the man’s faint stubble had felt as he ran his lips over his jaw. Merlin, why had he done that? He thumped his head back against the wall.   
As if that would clear his thoughts.   
He would apologize. He would apologize and beg Draco for things to go back to being professional between them. That a kiss was just a kiss- it didn’t have to mean anything. It had only been for their cover, and Harry regretted not thinking of another solution and he’d never spring something like that on Draco again. He’d respect Draco’s boundaries and even keep his distance if the other man wanted. He’d beg they just put the kiss aside and forget about it because the case took precedence over any emotions they may have toward one another. Even if Draco now hated him again Harry felt he’d at least manage to keep things civil until the case ends.   
Harry didn’t want to think about what would happen after the case ended. He didn’t want everything he’d felt had grown between them, the teasing conversations and easy familiarity, to end. It wasn’t for him alone to decide though; he knew he would take as much or as little as Draco wished to share with him and he would have to live with that. He would have to.  
Harry threw himself into the investigation the rest of the day. He scoured the area, checking and recharging dormant spellwork they’d cast. Going over even leads he had cast out as unlikely. He didn’t go back to the apartment for lunch and he didn't go back for dinner, opting instead for food that was as fast and cheap as his poor judgment had been. He wanted to give Draco space despite knowing he couldn't put off his partner, his auror partner, forever.   
It was late when Harry got back to the apartment building. Later than he’d meant to stay out and the only light provided as he ascended the stairs was from narrow windows overlooking the street lit by magic oil lamps that lined the street below. There was no moon in the clear sky tonight, only stars and the lamps warm glow over the stark winter night. As if their miniscule light could ever hope to penetrate the cold cast as eternal as the snow and stars. It was futile. Yet still they remained aglow, shedding stubborn golden light on white streets.  
Harry tensed as soon as the apartment door came into view. He felt as if all the air had been sucked from the hall, from his lungs and a vice had gripped his heart. He took a steadying breath and forced his feet to move, forced his hand to raise his key to the door, and stumbled in shock when the door swung open and he was pulled inside.   
If he hadn’t immediately recognized Draco he might have swung out at the man who had pulled him inside before roughly shoving his back against the now closed door, “What the h-”  
“Shut up.”   
Malfoys tone was icy and he released Harry only to scan him as if in inspection,   
“What the hell was that, Potter?”  
Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He took in the rage lining Draco’s face and felt his heart sink at the confirmation of his fears. He reminded himself he knew Draco’s hatred was a possibility; that he’d prepared for it. It seems his heart hadn’t gotten the message and his traitor throat had formed a lump he worked past to say,   
“Look- I’m sorry okay? I know you’re pissed and you’ve every right to be. I overstepped a line. But you’ve made your feelings pretty clear so just- just get your anger out now because we have a case to finish. After that you can hex me or whatever revenge you want for the kiss.”  
Draco’s expression went from furious to confused to disbelieving as Harry spoke and before he could say anything else Draco let out a strained laugh. Harry furrowed his brows in confusion as Draco just laughed a way that could only be described as hysteric.   
“Draco..?”  
The name hung heavy in the small space between them as Malfoy’s laughter had ended and he’d taken to staring to the side with something like furious disbelief at some point in the kitchen instead of at Harry. Harry took in his angry auror partner, his unusually disheveled attire and the dark rings staining pale skin under pale eyes. He looked exhausted. Harry had just started to apologize again when suddenly Malfoy was shoving him against the door once more, Harry’s collar bunched in his fists, closing the gap between them to mere inches as he hissed,   
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry about the bloody kiss and not for disappearing without a word for an entire day? You didn’t check in! I was out of my mind- I had thought-” Draco didn't elaborate on what he had thought, instead he searched Harry’s eyes with his own. Harry had once compared Draco’s eyes to a storm; he’d been wrong. The depths of emotion that swirled in his eyes at that moment were no mere storm. They were every bit a tempest. And Harry was lost in it.   
“You. Are. Such. An. Idiot.”  
Draco punctuated each word and Harry flinched at the raw anger behind the words, completely unprepared for what happened next.   
Draco’s kiss was not gentle. It was not a soft gesture of affection, but rough force and left Harry’s lips sore like a demanding question when Draco finally allowed him to come up for air.   
“Does that clear some things up for you, Potter?”  
Harry opened and closed his mouth but couldn’t form words. Draco looked angry but the hands he’s fisted into Harry’s collar were shaking. Harry moved a hand over them on instinct, his other hand having come to rest on Draco’s hip at some point during the kiss. The kiss Draco had initiated and all Harry could say was,   
“You’re- you're not angry I kissed you?”  
Draco snorted gracelessly, “I was shocked of course that you’d suddenly kissed me - we’re even now. I am however livid that you can be so pig headed as to be gone an entire day without considering how it might cause others to worry!”  
“You- you were worried about me?”  
“Salazar, but you are thick!” Draco gripped Harry's collar tighter and brought his face so close they were nearly touching as he said it. Harry’s eyes roamed the other man’s face and Malfoy quirked a brow, “Do you have more questions?”  
“Can I kiss you again?”  
The words left his lips before he’d even processed them and Harry would have once again cursed his impulsive nature if Draco didn’t let out another huff of disbelief, warm breath ghosting over Harry’s lips like the shadow of the kiss that followed it.   
It was a gentler kiss than his earlier one, though still demanding. Still a question. But this time Harry was ready to reply, moving his lips against the other man’s with just as much passion. This time when they parted, Harry wasn’t the only one left breathless. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest and he could only look back at Draco in awe. Draco huffed another laugh against his lips,   
“Scared, Potter?”  
Harry grabbed Draco’s hips firmer and stared into his eyes replying firmly with a shake of his head, “Harry.”  
Draco’s eyes twinkled with laughter but his serious tone remained, “Scared, Harry?”  
It was Harry’s turn to let out a breathless laugh, “Absolutely.”  
Yet he smiled into the kiss.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff!

The kiss was heated, as if a decade of longing had turned to heat that smelted and fused their bodies together. Harry’s cloak was the first thing to go, left a crumpled mess on the floor by the apartment door. Next they were stumbling, Harry grunted when they hit the edge of their table but was quick to reattach his demanding lips on Draco’s as they fumbled their way to the bedroom. Apparently, Harry didn’t want to waste time with all the buttons his vest and shirt entailed because one moment he was wearing them the next he’d pulled himself from Draco’s lips long enough to mutter a wandless vanishing charm. Draco had only a moment to appreciate the sight of Harry’s warm toned chest before their lips met again, and Draco felt himself being pushed against the bedroom door. One of his hands had moved to feel the broad chest, sandwiched between them, the only other barrier between their skin other than Draco’s own sweater. His other hand had found its way into Harry’s hair, tugging it free of the bun as Harry fumbled to get the bedroom door open.   
They nearly fell through when it opened, only just managing to stay standing by clinging to one another. Not that either of them would complain. Draco managed to shed his sweater before Harry pulled him down with him onto the bed, quick to move so he was over Draco. As their eyes caught Draco felt the breath he was trying to catch stutter in his throat. Harry’s gaze was tender, awed and so open it made Draco’s chest ache. He didn’t even realize until he’d done so that he’d lifted a hand to trace Harry’s cheek and jaw, the day’s stubble rough against his fingertips. Harry sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. For a moment they remained like that, locked in an embrace and content to just have this moment.   
When Harry opened his eyes again he lifted his own hand to cup Draco’s cheek, eyes searching,   
“I-” he licked his lips in a nervous fashion, that only made Draco want to kiss them again, “Are you sure you want this?”  
Draco couldn’t help it. He laughed. Then Harry’s hurt and confused expression had him hurrying to explain,  
“You have no idea how much I want this.”  
Harry smiled at that, smiled not smirked because it was with the gentlest teasing expression he’d ever seen that Harry pushed a few strands of hair that had fallen across Draco’s forehead back and whispered, “I think I have some idea.”

-

If this is a dream he doesn’t ever want to wake. Harry Potter would be lying if he said he’d never considered what it would be like to wake up to Draco Malfoy. He would never have admitted it before but last night had changed things between them. Or he really hoped it had. Harry didn’t know what he’d do if it hadn’t meant as much to Draco as it had to him. He studied the other man now, the sun had barely risen but already morning light was filtering through the windows to cast shadows and sunlight across Draco’s tousled pale hair and creamy skin. His sharp features looked softer in his sleep, as if all pretense had fallen away and Draco could look as soft as Harry knew he truly was. His chest was partially exposed where the covers had ridden down and despite Draco’s reassurances the night before he still felt guilty for being the one to place scars on him. Harry promised himself then that he would do whatever it took to make up for his past actions, even if it took a lifetime.   
Breaking out of his dour thoughts Harry leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the other man’s forehead.   
“Nghn”, was Draco’s only response and Harry couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips at that,   
“Good morning to you too.”  
“Five more mins,” Draco mumbled shifting to bury his face in the pillow. Harry shook his head but felt a warmth spread through him at Draco’s antics. It was a side of him he’d only just barely glimpsed before. The thought that this could become a regular thing only made what was probably already an incredibly sappy grin grow larger on his face. He pecked Draco’s smooth shoulder,   
“Tell you what, for a kiss I’ll even make us breakfast.”  
Draco hummed happily and rolled his sleepy face back toward him so Harry took it as invitation to press his lips to Draco’s. It was barely more than a peck. Chaste but syrupy sweet and Harry could only grin as he got out of the bed and slips on a pair of joggers, only to be momentarily held up by Draco’s sleepy attempt to hold his hand.   
Twenty minutes later, Harry had spelled the trail of yesterday's clothes into the laundry, attempted Draco’s french pressed coffee and he’s humming happily while plating their french toast when he hears Draco finally leaves the bedroom. He turns and for a minute Draco just stares across the tiny apartment at him with an impossibly fond look. Harry is glad he already had one hand on the counter or he might have had to brace himself since his knees suddenly had gone weak.  
They eat breakfast at their little table and Draco makes disgusted faces at the amount of powdered sugar Harry shakes onto his french toast but still kisses him anyway. He and Draco, even after last night have to find a way to fight; though Harry had to admit their footsie war under the table was a much more pleasant hostility than they’d ever had between them before. They exchange several soft kisses throughout breakfast if they can’t believe they’re allowed to do so and must keep testing the fact to make sure neither of them is dreaming. At first they talk about nothing, but the topic eventually turns to the night before and the relaxed bubble they’d been in all morning seems to pop. Harry reaches across the table to take Draco’s hand in his and when grey eyes meet green he speaks quietly but with a voice full of certainty and a longing sort of hope,   
“Last night,” He begins but has to swallow down a sudden lump in his throat as Draco stiffens, “I don’t want this to have been a one time thing. It meant something to me. I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you feel the same?”  
Pale grey eyes simply blink at him for a moment, as if processing all he just said before Draco speaks and when he does his voice is even but only just, “You really are an idiot if you think I don’t feel the same.”  
In a sharp laugh Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, “Well, sorry for wanting to hear it said.”  
Draco rolled his eyes and Harry pressed on, “So, what does this change? Er- What I mean is I know I want more than casual but I mean what you want is important too and I’m not really sure how this changes things between us and if you want to be exclusive and-”  
“Harry,” Draco interrupted his blabbering, “I want all those things too.”  
If Harry grinned any more his cheeks would start to ache, but just as the though crossed his mind Draco’s expression fell and in a worried rush Harry asked, “You okay?”  
Draco nodded, swallowing before speaking, “Yes, I’m fine. It’s only that this-” He gestures between them with the hand Harry isn’t holding, “it has to wait. Figuring out what we are to each other and how this changes things between us, it has to wait. We have a case to solve.”  
Harry frowned but looked at their hands still held on the table, Draco hadn’t pulled away despite his words,   
“I get that.”  
“I know you do,” Draco replied, “and I know you want to catch this guy as badly as I do. So, for now we have to stay focused even if I’d love nothing more than a repeat of last night.”  
Harry choked out a laugh at the sudden suggestion and Merlin, this man really may be the death of him.   
It’s a Saturday but for aurors undercover weekend breaks aren’t a thing. So they fall back into the routine of dancing around each other as they get ready for the day. Well, perhaps dancing “around each other” isn’t as fitting a term anymore for their practiced routine. It’s more a duet than avoidance. It’s comfortable in a way it wasn’t before, with everything between them out in the open. It should have been awkward, a relationship so freshly acknowledged yet it was anything but. Perhaps they owed that ease to being partners or perhaps after ten years of knowing one another this was just another step in their relationship. Whatever the case they worked smoothly together despite the change.   
If only things could remain so simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An actual mature discussion between these two lovable idiots? More likely than you think! Lol I like to think these two matured after the war.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case you forgot there's still a case to solve...

Draco did his best to act as if nothing had changed and focus on the case in the days after their mutual agreement to be together. As a couple. Meaning they would actually have to figure out how that would work, exactly, after this case. Draco didn’t know if it was anticipation or apprehension that seized his heart every time the thought caught him off guard. Harry remaining a constant and predictable presence in his days soothed some of those worries. When they were together Draco felt as if maybe, just maybe, if it was the two of them together they could make it work.   
“Now that is the dopiest expression I’ve seen on you yet,” Beth’s comment was followed by a throaty chuckle to show she’d meant no harm. Draco had been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard her approach. He cleared his throat, steadfastly ignoring the heat that he was sure flushed his cheeks,   
“Dropping in the resupply?”  
Beth’s smile and words took on a slightly more somber note as she replied,   
“Yeah, that and I have to at least pretend I'm running a business.”  
Draco let out a short laugh, “Yes well I do appreciate it; where else would I go to pretend I’m getting any work done?”  
Beth returned his smile and seemed to examine him for a moment commenting, after prompted by Draco’s arched brow, “You do seem rather… distracted today.”   
“That obvious?” Draco sighed, dropping his head into his hands briefly to rub some of the exhaustion and whatever else from his expression. When he looked back up Beth was still smiling gently at him,   
“Something good happen?”  
“What makes you guess that?”  
“You looked strikingly similar to a lovesick teenage just now. Spill, what’d Henry do? Was it naughty?”  
Draco sputtered and covered his, now no doubt tomato red, face with his journal. When he’d regained his voice he peeked at her over the top of the book with narrowed eyes,   
“Nothing of the sort!”  
Beth laughed, “Oh it definitely was then. Oh, don’t worry I’ll stop teasing you so much.”  
Draco opened his mouth to let out a sarcastic thank you but Beth went on before he could, “After all, that’s Henry’s job.”  
She then proceeded to leave the café laughing at Draco’s sputtering attempt to find a reply. Just as she’d reached the door a patronus in the shape of a stag burst through the wall, stopping just short of Draco’s table. He could feel his blood turn to ice in his veins as the patronus opened it’s mouth and Harry’s voice came out in a rushed whisper, “Alley connecting Heritage to Chestnut, call reinforcements, it was-”  
The patronus’s message ended suddenly and Draco leapt to his feet, rushing past a confused Beth still standing in the doorway. He cast his own patronus as he ran, repeating the address and directing the wispy pale fennec to deliver the message directly to Robards. That done he turned on the spot, concentrating on the road he knew adjoined Heritage and apparated.   
His feet had barely touched solid ground again and his world still felt as if it was spinning as he took off toward the alley Harry’s patronus had stated. If that idiot- no he wasn’t going to think about anything but the pounding of his feet on pavement and making it to the alley. He could already hear spellfire being exchanged. It was still early morning and everything seemed shadowed and greyer than usual as he ran. As soon as he reached the opening of the alleyway he was yanked aside and whipped around to point his wand at his attacker only to find it was Harry who’d pulled him behind some crates and bins. One of the bins explodes before Draco could fully take Harry in. Singed rubbish falling in every direction Draco cast a late shielding charm and Harry explained in a rush, “Has me pinned down. It was the bloody stationary store clerk of all-”  
Another blast interrupts him and Harry stands quickly to cast a spell in return before ducking back behind the remaining crates. “Circle around the street and come up behind him, I’ll keep him distracted from here and-”  
“Absolutely not!” Draco all but screeched, what the hell is Harry thinking? “I’m not leaving you and I’m certainly not using you as bait!”  
Harry huffed out a labored breath Draco was half sue was meant to be a laugh, “We don’t have time to argue this-”  
“You’re hurt!”   
Draco had narrowed his eyes and taken in Harry’s labored breathing and the state of his, well, everything. That was when he spotted the trail of crimson that had dripped down the left of Harry’s cloak and trousers. Harry huffed a frustrated breath,   
“Which is exactly why we need to-”  
He was interrupted by a spell breaking Draco’s hastily cast shielding charm. Draco threw up another without hesitation after Harry had managed to fire back a spell of his own.   
“Exactly why we should wait for reinforcements!” Draco hissed.   
Harry panted a heavy breath and locked eyes with him, “The quicker we disarm him the quicker I can get to a healer. We don’t know when help will come and we don’t know if he’ll wise up and run.”  
“But-”   
Draco protested but Harry drew himself up straight and his green eyes were laced with pain and determination as they bored into his,  
“Draco, please. We can’t waste anymore time.”  
As if to punctuate his statement Draco’s shielding charm once again broke and a flurry of curses were flung their way, he and Harry only just managed to remain out of range or block them as they came. Minutes that felt like hours of grueling spellwork later they once again panted behind the crates. Harry grabbed Draco’s hand in his own as they locked eyes again, “Go, I can only hold him off awhile longer before I won’t be able to cast anymore.”  
“All the more reason-”  
“Please, Draco. Trust me.”  
And as he looked into those weary green eyes and took in the smudged and bloodied appearance of his partner he knew he was right. Tactically. Everything in Draco screamed at him not to leave Harry but it was a plan that made sense and the only plan they really had at the moment. He didn’t know how long he’d last on his own against their attacker. So he nodded. He nodded once in grim determination and Harry nodded back as if they didn’t even need words to communicate the understanding that passed between them. Draco waited until the end of the next flurry of attacks before he made his move.   
He just narrowly escaped a nasty hex as he rounded the corner back onto the street panting and took off once again to find another alleyway he could take to get around and behind the man. He prayed to whatever gods would listen that he would make it in time. That this daft plan would actually work. That Harry would be okay.   
Finally, finally, he came close to the alleyway again and crouched to make his way painstakingly slowly and quietly to the entrance. They were in between bouts of spellfire again. Draco held his wand steady in front of him. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t.   
He heard movement and the spellfire resume and decided now was better than ever to try to get the guy’s position, trusting Harry not the accidentally hex him in return. Dashing forward he found the older man’s back was to him. He didn’t seem to have heard Draco come around behind him. It was now or never.   
Draco cast Petrificus Totalus.   
The man stiffened.  
Then fell face forward paralyzed.  
The spell was temporary but hopefully long enough for backup to arrive.   
Draco rushed forward having the presence of mind to grab the other man’s wand as he called out to Harry.   
Silence met him.  
“Harry?!”  
Silence. Save for the thundering of Draco’s heart against his ribcage. He took off running to the bins Harry should be behind and almost let out a breath of relief to see the other wizard still there. But then he noticed his eyes weren’t open and his chest was rising and falling erratically. Someone keeps shouting, “No!”  
Draco thinks it might be him.   
He’s not sure how long it takes him to actually reach Harry’s side and he loses count of the number of healing spells he attempts. At some point the familiar robes of aurors fill his vision and Draco barely registers them. It isn’t until the now familiar voice of the unspeakable witch is right beside him that he looks up from Harry,   
“I’ve removed the charms i place on you but the medi witches need to get him to St.Mungos. Now.”   
She places a hand on Draco’s shoulder, gentle but firm as she pulls him back and a medi witch steps forward and begins muttering and casting spells over Harry. Draco thinks his breathing looks a little steadier when they apparate away with him.   
He hopes it does at least.  
He has to.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The resolution

“Harry! Oy, I think he’s waking up!”  
“Give him some space Ronald.”  
Harry woke with a grunt, his eyes felt leaden and sandy so he reached a hand up to rub at them before attempting to sit up, only to be stopped by a tutting Hermione’s gentle hand,   
“Oh no you don’t. Lay back, you’re still healing.”  
“Oh, you can get can you?”  
Harry looked over at his friends, for the first time in months, and despite the dull ache he felt down his left side he grinned at them as they bickered over who exactly was smothering him.  
He’d missed them. Harry let his gaze trail over the room next and came to a sudden realization; where was Draco? The last thing Harry remembered was Draco disappearing around the corner of that alley. Was he okay? Had they caught the guy? Where was Draco? Harry asked his best friends all these things in a rush and Hermione shushed him in what he supposed would normally be a soothing manner before replying,   
“Yes, that monster was apprehended. And Draco is fine; he went to get coffee.”  
“I still can’t believe you’re calling Malfoy that.” Ron scoffed.  
“It is his name Ronald. And he apologized. Surely you can be mature about this if he can?” Hermione smiled at Ron as if in challenge. Ron just huffed and rolled his eyes,   
“Fine!” He threw up his hands and turned his attention to Harry, “How you feeling mate?”  
“Like I got run over by the night bus,” He laughed and oh that smarted, “oof, maybe I should avoid laughing for awhile.”  
“Probably moving in general, yeah?” Ron gave him a lopsided grin.  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. Hermione opened her mouth to add something but before she could the door to the room opened and in walked Draco Malfoy.   
He was carrying a tray of coffees, wearing the same clothes he’d had on when they fought that madman and they were noticeably rumpled and stained at the end of the sleeves with what harry flinched to realize was probably his blood. His hair wasn’t it’s usual stylishly disheveled state but flat and looked as if he’d run his hands through it a hundred times. When his eyes found Harry’s he nearly dropped the tray, pausing only momentarily to set it on the counter before half running to Harry’s bedside and crushing him in a hug.   
“You’re awake!”  
“Ow,” Harry replied yet when Draco made to pull away he just held the other man tighter despite the pain, breathing a sigh of relief,   
“You okay?”  
“Me?” Draco scoffed, pulling back just enough to look Harry in the eyes,   
“I’m not the one who’s going to be sporting yet another nasty spell scar.”  
Despite Draco’s frown Harry grinned,   
“That bad, huh?”  
Draco frowned harder if that was at all possible and said dryly,   
“It’s going to be hideous.”   
Harry laughed again, ignoring the pain radiating in his side and cupped Draco’s jaw in his hand,   
“However will you tolerate me?”  
“I already don’t know,” Draco replied, a smile fighting to break through his frown. Harry chuckled and leaned forward to capture Draco’s lips in a soft kiss. Draco sighed against his mouth and deepened the kiss. They only broke apart because of the sudden, and extremely loud, “WHAT?!!” that Ron let out.   
Right. Ron and Hermione were still there. Oops. Draco pulled away and made to stand to the side but Harry grabbed his hand in his own before Draco could get too far. Draco looked at their hands and then gave Harry a tentative smile.   
“Uh, not to interrupt,” Hermione interrupted, “but to second Ron: What?”  
Harry rubbed his thumb reassuringly across Draco’s knuckles as he answered,   
“So, as you might have gathered, this is a thing,” He gestured between himself and Draco with his free hand, “It’s new and a lot happened while we were undercover.”  
Ron was making sputtering noises and staring at their held hands but Hermione nodded slowly, “Well,” she cleared her throat, “obviously. You’ll have to fill us in later then and I want to know everything, but uh perhaps for now we should leave you two for some alone time?”  
Harry would have objected but Hermione was already pulling a still gaping Ron out of the room. When the door shut and silence filled the room he grinned tentatively up at Draco,   
“That went well.”  
The other man let out a loud put upon huff and shook his head. Suddenly his face lit up with what could only be described as an evil smirk,   
“Just wait till we break the news to my friends.”  
Harry blanched and Draco laughed, shaking his head and released his hand only to come to sit beside him on the hospital bed. Shoulder to shoulder before Draco wrapped an arm around Harry and helped him to sit up against his chest. They just stayed like that for a moment in silence, taking in the fat that after months of work it was finally over. They’d caught him. And Harry was happy they did! But with a pang of guilt he also was sad that it meant their little apartment and life there was at an end as well. No more Damien and Henry. He wondered if someone was already clearing the apartment or if they’d have to go pack up their things and take down the decorations themselves.   
“It’s really over, huh?” Draco voice his thoughts.  
“Yeah,” Was all Harry could manage suddenly.   
“Ronan Carpenter,” Draco stated.  
“Huh?”  
“The guy’s name. You were right about it being the stationary store clerk; though he’s the owner as well apparently.”  
“Oh.” Harry knew he should feel happier about this, about having caught the man who’d hurt so many, who’d targeted a whole community out of nothing but bias and hatred, but all Harry felt was as if a long day of work was finally coming to an end. He was exhausted.   
“In the mood to celebrate another glorious victory, St.Potter?” Draco joked, in an attempt to bring Harry out of his reverie. And was rewarded with Harry’s smile and a roll of green eyes.   
“If by celebrate you mean take a nap, then yeah.”  
“Want me to go?”  
“Don’t you dare.” Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco who just raised a brow in question, “You’re far more comfortable than these hospital pillows.”  
Draco laughed, and it was bright and loud and clear. To Harry it was the sound of pure joy and he wished he could capture it. Instead he settled for snuggling closer to Draco who spelled off the light with a shake of his head, “Sweet dreams, Harry.”  
Harry smiled into Draco’s chest, “Sweet dreams, darling.”

Sometime later Draco was awoken by the sound of the door creaking open and standing in the doorway to Harry’s hospital room was none other than Anne Kazan.  
“Am I interrupting?”  
“Our nap, yes. But please come in.”  
Anne stepped inside opening the door to reveal Beth behind her. They looked over Harry and Draco and it was Beth who spoke next,   
“Are you Damien?”  
Draco winced and it was enough to stir Harry, “Whutzat?”  
Harry blinked awake and upon seeing their visitors nearly jumped up but Draco held him in place reminding him of his injury.   
“And Henry.” Beth added. It wasn’t a question.   
“Yes.” Draco replied simply and waited for a reaction. Beth frowned in thought but Anne didn’t seem to have the same reservations as her fianceé, since she marched over to the bed coming to a stop at the opposite end and pushing aside Harry and Draco’s legs to jump up in the bed herself, “Well now we know what to put on the reservations.”  
“Reservations?” Harry asked.  
“Yes, for our wedding. And you two better come as Harry and Draco or I’m going to have a fit.” Anne threatened but was smiling. Beth came to stand beside her,   
“I suppose we also owe you a thank you.”  
“Why?”  
“For catching that asshole.”  
Draco choked at Anne’s unexpected and sudden crudeness,  
“Yes, well it’s our job. I’m sorry we had to lie to you.”  
“I’m sorry as well.” Harry added, scratching his neck in nervous habit.  
Anne just rolled her eyes with a smile but Beth now smiled at them too and said,   
“I think, given the circumstances, we can forgive you.”  
Draco and Harry let out simultaneous sighs of relief and that had Anne laughing. Beth just shook her head and shooed her fiancee over to sit on the end of the bed as well. With four adults it was cramped and everyone's legs were squashed and the sight was likely comical but they made it work. They passed the time, sharing stories and properly getting to know one another again until Harry’s healer walked in. It was Garrett, Leo once again in his jarringly cheery blue scrubs with little yellow ducks in sailor hats. He frowned as he kicked the other three out of Harry’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endings are so bittersweet! Hope you enjoyed reading this fic!


	21. Epilogue

~Six Months Later~ 

In a little cottage in the village of Hogsmeade reside two former aurors. Harry Potter with much public scandal announced not only his relationship with acquitted death eater, former rival and current auror partner Draco Malfoy, but also his retirement from the aurors. After five successful years Harry had decided a change of pace would be healthy and jumped at the chance to teach Quidditch at his alma mater Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, replacing the happily retiring Madame Hooch. Another new hire for Hogwarts was soon announced. Draco Malfoy will take over potions from Horace Slughorn; who is happily going back into retirement.  
Headmistress McGonagall was also pleased to make the exception of off school grounds residency when she learned of their purchase in Hogsmeade.   
Draco and Harry purchased a three bedroom cottage on several acres: room to expand should they ever choose to do so. Renovation of their little house was drawing to an end and Draco was currently occupied with making sure the house was tidy enough for guests. Beth and Anne were coming over for their first visit to the other couples new home. Draco couldn't help but smile at the thought of this, this cottage he and Harry put so much time into, being his home. For the first time in many years he felt absolutely at peace. This is where he belonged.   
Then the front door opened to reveal a dirt covered Harry Potter.   
"They'll be here any minute!" Draco blanched.   
"Sorry love, practice ran late," Harry gave him an apologetic smile. He'd joined a local quidditch team as well, nothing very competitive just the Hogsmeade local team. He seemed to enjoy it immensely which is the only reason Draco didn't scold him further as he shooed him into their bedroom and told him to shower quickly.  
Fifteen minutes later Harry was showered, shaved and properly dressed. Or rather as proper as Harry Potter ever dressed, wearing an old band shirt with very few holes and a clean pair of well fitting jeans. Draco again thought of how he missed seeing Harry in a suit. But this is who Harry was, and Draco was very much not complaining as he watched the other man humming along to the weird sisters and pouring their teas.   
Harry hands him his cup with a peck on the cheek before returning to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the meal he'd prepared this morning for their guests arrival. As Draco took a sip of his perfectly made tea he felt again that immense sense of peace fall back over him like a warm blanket across his shoulders on a chilly day. He was happy. And watching Harry rummage through their cabinets, (theirs because this was their home they'd made together and isn't that a thought?) he was overcome with emotion.  
For months he'd been carrying the little box in his pocket, trying to plan the perfect date but he suddenly felt that some over the top date night wouldn't fit them at all. Not for the question he was burning to ask. No, this simple moment together would be much sweeter a memory. And so before his nerves could talk him out of it Draco Malfoy moved to kneel behind Harry Potter.   
Sensing Draco's presence behind him Harry turned and was left momentarily speechless; there was a little leather box cradled in Draco's uplifted hands. A ring box.   
"Wha-" He swallowed a sudden lump of emotion in his throat, "What's this?"   
"Really, Potter?" Draco sassed but there was no malice in his voice. Only fondness as he continued, "I think you should at least be able to recognize a ring box and when someone is proposing to you?"   
Harry let out a happy but nervous laugh and rolled his eyes,   
"Oh- is that what's happening?"  
But his words were spoken softly and he reached out to gently take the box and open it. Inside were two simple bands. Each made of intertwined silver and gold.   
"Well?"   
Draco's voice brought Harry back down to earth. He was waiting for a reply. So Harry gave him one; dropping to his knees as well he cupped the other man's cheek in his free hand and simply said,   
"Yes."  
"Yes?"  
"You want to spell it out for you, Malfoy?"   
Harry laughed, and before Draco could reply captured his lips in a gentle kiss before deepening it to something that tried to convey everything he was feeling at that moment. When they broke apart Draco looked dazed but as they placed their foreheads together Harry felt, perhaps for the first time in his life, as if he had finally come home. 

(THE END)


End file.
